


You Need a Friend

by adoxyinherear



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoxyinherear/pseuds/adoxyinherear
Summary: “We’re going to be friends, you and I,” Reyes said, lips curling in a criminally effective smirk. He shifted closer and Ryder felt her heart pumping just a little bit harder, hotter.Later Ryder would tell herself he winked because he was far enough away that he didn’t want the bar’s patrons to overhear his response.It was not a particularly convincing lie, given she didn’t want it to be one.--Am obviously romancing a lying character from BioWare because I hate myself.
Relationships: Female Ryder | Sara/Reyes Vidal
Comments: 39
Kudos: 80





	1. Kralla's Song

Kadara Port smelled so much like the slums on Omega that Ryder was momentarily struck dumb, standing in the market with her mouth open like a tourist. If Scott had been with her - _when was she going to stop thinking about what it would be like if Scott was with her_ \- he’d have stuck his finger in her mouth to prove a point. Namely, how she was asking for something terrible to happen to her with her endless optimism and physically-manifested wonder about the world. 

But she was an explorer. They both were. 

_Had been._

_Would be._

And for Sara Ryder that meant tasting sulfur on the air and feeling a little giddy about what else there might be to smell and taste and touch here.

Drack and Vetra had abandoned her to make the rendezvous at Kralla’s Song alone, which wasn’t a problem, exactly. It was better if the Pathfinder didn’t spook their supplier, though if she’d brought PeeBee at least Ryder wouldn’t have to drink alone at a bar while she waited for their Resistance contact. 

Not that it seemed drinking was an option. No sooner than she’d come through the door the asari bartender drew a knife on a surly krogan. The easy warmth of a smirk painted Ryder’s lips. She _really_ should’ve brought PeeBee.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

The man who spoke barely met Ryder’s eyes before turning to the bartender, seemingly unimpressed by the violence with which she deposited two drinks on the bar. He held one out to Ryder, his easy confidence probing at her guard. It was hardly impenetrable, even on her best days. 

Still Ryder studied him, the heavy-lidded eyes, strong nose, weak chin. He wasn’t armed - not that she could see, anyway - but she applauded herself for at least giving him a quick visual scan for a weapon. 

“I’ve got time for a drink.”

The toast surprised her, enough of a distraction from the potently terrible contents of the cup that she didn’t sputter. 

“Shena. But you can call me Reyes. I hate code names.”

“I was expecting someone more… angaran.”

Reyes laughed like a man who knew the kind of power such a sound could have.

“The resistance pays me to supply information - among other things.”

_Of course._

“So you’re a smuggler.”

He didn’t have to confirm it; the press of his lips and his eyes gesturing to the window all but admitting she’d pegged him correctly. Ryder didn’t suppose it was easy to survive somewhere like Kadara Port in a reputable line of work - or that you’d choose to, if that’s what you wanted.

Not that the Exiles had been given much of a choice.

“Your man - Vehn Terev - was arrested by Sloane Kelly, leader of the Outcasts. Word spread about what he did to Moshae Sjefa. The people are calling for his execution and Sloane… she’s a woman of the people.”

“I like her already.”

“Well, she doesn’t like you,” Reyes replied, leaning conspiratorially close and then away again. His hair was immaculate, shaved close on the sides and combed long on top. Where did you even find hair product in a place like this?

_Focus, Ryder._

“She’s never met me.”

Reyes shrugged, conceding the point.

“You work for the Initiative. Sloane was part of the uprising on the Nexus. I doubt she’ll give Vehn up easily.”

“I’m taking him… with or without her permission.”

“We’re going to be friends, you and I,” Reyes said, lips curling in a criminally effective smirk. He shifted closer and Ryder felt her heart pumping just a little bit harder, hotter. “There might be another way to get to Vehn. You work Sloane. I’ll talk to the Resistance.”

The way he said it reminded Ryder of ranking officials in the Alliance who’d offer a duty roster assignment like it was some kind of privilege - like they were doing you a favor when they were really only accustomed to doing favors for themselves. It wasn’t malicious, but it was damn obnoxious.

Especially since he was walking away.

Ryder turned, unclasping her hands - _why were they so sweaty_ \- and raised her voice after his retreating form.

“How do I contact you if things go south?”

Later Ryder would tell herself he winked because he was far enough away that he didn’t want the bar’s patrons to overhear his response.

It was not a particularly convincing lie, given she didn’t want it to be one.


	2. The Only Honest Man on Kadara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you asking me if I have a girlfriend, Pathfinder?”
> 
> “Or a boyfriend.”
> 
> Reyes leaned forward, his eyes an invitation.
> 
> “Why don’t you use that fancy AI of yours to scan me for love bites?”
> 
> \--
> 
> After collecting the Kett transponder, Ryder collects on a promised drink. Cobbles together some in-game dialogue to flesh out a longer conversation.

Reyes had promised her a drink. And after the day she’d had, Ryder felt she more than deserved it.

They’d secured the Kett transponder and she’d contacted Gil so he’d know to expect the work when they returned to the Tempest - though Ryder had to admit she wasn’t in a hurry to locate the Archon’s ship. The element of surprise would hold until they had more information - or at least more assets. She’d feel a lot better about their chances with the turian or asari arks, and she’d said as much to Drack when they’d returned to the slums.

“Don’t let fear make your decisions for you, kid,” he replied, promptly stalking off to the bar before she could argue with him. Liam’s grin was sympathetic.

“Do what you need to do, Ryder - old man’s got the right idea about drinks, though.”

And he’d left her, too.

Reyes had secured a private chamber, an asari just leaving as Ryder entered the room. She raised an eyebrow at the pair in turn, presumptive, but held her tongue.

Scott would be so proud.

 _You’ve grown, sis,_ he’d have said. _Not saying the first thing that comes into your head._

Reyes was speaking, drawing Ryder out of her thoughts.

“Got word from one of my colleagues. Vehn Tarev made it off Kadara. He’s a free man - thanks to you.”

Ryder studied his features, flirted briefly with the idea of using SAM to scan him, as though understanding someone at the molecular level was the key to social interaction.

“You helped. A little.”

“Always nice to be recognized.”

He gestured for Ryder to take a seat near him.

“You’ll forgive my manners. You don't mind drinking from the bottle?"

“That depends,” Ryder replied, eyeing Reyes. “Do you have any lip fungus I should know about?”

He laughed, a sound that managed to be genuine and manipulative at the same time. Ryder liked his laugh, even if she was about a thousand percent sure she couldn’t trust it.

“None that _I_ know about. Alcohol is a natural disinfectant, right?”

“You’re not exactly inspiring my confidence.”

Reyes’ eyes turned soft as he pressed the bottle into her hands. Without breaking eye contact, Ryder lifted the bottle and took a drink. It was better than the stuff Umi had served her earlier, at least. She handed the bottle back to him, looking away because she couldn’t help but feel that she was being scanned, somehow. Her mind cast around for something to ask him, wishing she hadn’t given up the bottle so readily. She would _not_ fidget.

“How long have you worked with the Resistance?”

Reyes raised and lowered the bottle in a fluid motion, a long drink but, Ryder suspected, a shallow one.

“A few months. When Sloane saved the port from the Kett, Evfra wanted eyes and ears on the ground. Figured people would be more loose lipped around their own kind. He was right.”

Leaning forward with her elbows braced against her knees, Ryder couldn’t disguise her interest. It hadn’t been easy, infiltrating and clearing out the Kett base on Eos after she’d established Prodromos. And from what she’d seen of Kadara, they’d have had the environment working against them, too.

“Sloane’s tough, but so are the Kett. How did she take them out?”

“Never underestimate the element of surprise,” Reyes chided lightly, standing and punching a few keys on the terminal before returning. “The Kett weren’t ready for an ambush. But they know her tactics now. Next time Sloane won’t be so lucky.”

“You think they’ll come back?”

Reyes shrugged, offering Ryder the bottle again. She took it, noting that he’d settled fractionally closer to her than he’d been before he’d risen.

“It’s wise never to rule out the possibility of unexpected trouble on Kadara, Pathfinder,” he teased, and Ryder felt herself smiling, the corners of her lips pulled into an expression Scott had once told her made his friends deeply uncomfortable. They’d been sixteen and he just didn’t like it when they’d rather flirt with her than quote the latest Blasto film over stale Tastee Bites.

“You seem like the sort of man who’d know,” Ryder conceded, and Reyes pressed a hand to his chest, feigning injury.

“I’m only trying to help.”

“No one warned me of your generous nature, Reyes.”

“I’m working on it,” he mused, holding out a hand for the bottle. She passed it to him, felt the brush of his gloved fingers against hers and caught his gaze. Now it was his turn to drink without relinquishing her eyes, which he managed like he practiced in a mirror, smirk and all. Ryder felt a blush creeping up her neck, grateful for her armor and wondering if putting her helmet on would be unprecedented.

Maybe SAM had a profile that was applicable when 600 years in cryo robbed you of an already compromised capacity to speak to handsome men.

<I do not, Pathfinder.>

SAM’s reply reminded Ryder that it was worse than she’d imagined. She had an audience. Ryder had missed this, though - someone who could keep up.

Closing her eyes briefly, Ryder leaned in to what had brought her here in the first place: the mission, her work, helping people.

“Have you heard of ‘Oblivion’?”

If he’d noticed Ryder’s momentary mental lapse, Reyes didn’t show it.

“Sure, though I don’t partake myself.”

“Dr. Nakamoto asked me to steal back his formula,” Ryder admitted, thinking of the man working tirelessly just outside the bar. She couldn’t imagine doing that kind of work, in a place like this.

“Poor Ryota,” Reyes said with a sigh, taking another long pull from the bottle, deeper this time. “He’s probably the only honest man on Kadara… besides myself, of course.”

“Of course,” Ryder murmured, thinking of Arenna Farenth, who’d assumed Ryder would be as jaded as everyone else in Kadara Port - all too willing to believe Dr. Nakamoto a “lying asshole.” For good or ill, Ryder knew she couldn’t be that person, even when it was smarter to be.

Even assholes were capable of doing the right thing, sometimes.

“If I hadn’t come along, would you have drank this whole bottle yourself?” Ryder asked at last, taking the proffered bottle one more time. It was getting light.

“Are you asking me if I have a girlfriend, Pathfinder?”

“Or a boyfriend.”

Reyes leaned forward, his eyes an invitation.

“Why don’t you use that fancy AI of yours to scan me for love bites?”

<Ryder, I can estimate the age of damage to the capillaries ->

_**No** , SAM._

This was getting out of hand.

Ryder swallowed the last of the bottle’s contents, regretting it the instant she stood. Tasted better than what Umi was serving and stronger, too.

“I better get going,” she began, the rest of the thought just out of reach. _Goodbye, got to go before I make a fool of myself._

“Ryder.”

Reyes’ voice was soft, temptingly low.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but... you’re not really liked here. In Kadara Port.”

Sobriety slammed nearer with his words.

“Ouch.”  
  
“What I’m saying is - you need a friend. Someone on the inside to help you out. I can be that guy,” Reyes continued. Ryder wanted to insert a few key pauses into the sentiment. “You need intel on exiles, Sloane, whatever - come to me.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Ryder left him with the empty bottle, collecting Drack and an equally compromised Liam from the bar below. She wanted to tell Reyes that she had friends - she had a whole ship full of friends.

She needed something else.


	3. You're Something Else, Ryder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder had felt his eyes settle on her lips when she spoke and imagined what it would be like to kiss him. Reyes had been close enough that she could smell the discharge from his weapon and something else, something spicy, aftershave or soap or the tantalizing nearness of his skin.
> 
> “Don’t be a stranger, Pathfinder.” 
> 
> SAM probably wondered if there wasn’t something wrong with her, the way she obsessively replayed the conversation, imagined how it might have gone differently if they’d been alone, or at least, absent a half-dozen dead angaran rebels. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Set after 'A People Divided.' Ryder can't sleep, so she chats up Vetra and sends some naughty emails.

Ryder lay awake in her quarters on the Tempest, trying and failing not to think about how she’d felt when Reyes’ arrival at the Roekaar hideout had been preceded with an expertly targeted shotgun blast. The swell of heat low in her belly burned as hot now as it had then, stoked by his self-assurance, his wicked humor - _Don’t you love a happy ending?_ \- and how close she’d come to doing something stupid when he’d left. 

_“Careful. I’ll start thinking you like me.”_

_“Would that be so bad?”_

Ryder had felt his eyes settle on her lips when she spoke and imagined what it would be like to kiss him. Reyes had been close enough that she could smell the discharge from his weapon and something else, something spicy, aftershave or soap or the tantalizing nearness of his skin.

_“Don’t be a stranger, Pathfinder.”_

SAM probably wondered if there wasn’t something wrong with her, the way she obsessively replayed the conversation, imagined how it might have gone differently if they’d been alone, or at least, absent a half-dozen dead angaran rebels. 

<Your father exhibited similar compulsive behaviors, Pathfinder. Though his were more professional in nature.>

Ryder groaned. She wasn’t about to argue with her AI that she _was_ a professional, she was also just a human, tired and wired and horny. And if she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, she might as well work. Collecting a datapad from the table beside her bed, she made her way to the galley, surprised to find she wasn’t the only one awake.

“Vetra, hey,” Ryder said. “What’re you doing up?”

The buzz of Vetra’s sub-vocals Ryder recognized as amusement accompanied the turian’s response.

“I like to take inventory when everyone’s off duty. Food’s something everyone has an opinion about, and none of them helpful.”

“I’ll keep my feelings about fruit-flavored nutrient pastes to myself, then.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Vetra observed, but she didn’t sound irritated by Ryder’s interruption. A single talon moved meticulously parallel to one of the storage shelves, counting. “Syd was always partial to strawberry.”

Ryder shuddered.

“No wonder you have to keep tabs on her. Unless the dextro-amino acid version’s something special, she has terrible taste.”

Vetra laughed, though when she spoke again, her voice had sombered.

“She’s a good kid. I should ease up on her.”

“I wouldn’t know. My dad didn’t trust me to do anything on my own until the day he died, so,” Ryder quipped. It stung, only a little, to admit it. Vetra leaned a hip against the counter, studying Ryder with more tenderness than she was used to.

“Did you resent him for it?”

“No, I just - did my own thing. Scott, too. The Initiative brought us back together. I didn’t expect he’d be any different, in another galaxy.”

But she didn’t expect he’d be dead, either.

“You visited him, the last time we were on the Nexus. Scott,” Vetra observed softly. “How is he?”

“They’re doing everything they can,” Ryder replied, hating the words even more when they came out of her mouth than she did when the cryo physicians uttered them. When she continued her tone was light, if a bit forced. “But he was always lazy. He’ll wake up after all the hard work’s done and act like he’s entitled to something.”

“Stick with me and I’ll have taught you everything you need to know about being a domineering older sister by then,” Vetra replied, her words buzzing with a grin.

“Who says I’m not already?”

It felt good, better than good, to share a laugh with Vetra after hours. She hadn’t lied to the reporter when she’d asked after how Ryder spent her time - with her team, and happily. 

<There is a new email at your terminal, Pathfinder.>

SAM’s interruption made her stomach drop. The Tempest maintained the same hours as the Nexus, which meant that while an email at this hour wasn’t necessarily bad news, there was always a chance.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Vetra.”

“Goodnight, Ryder.”

Back in her quarters, Ryder pulled up her email and tried not to think about the many tenuous situations that could’ve gone south: Scott’s condition, the outposts on Eos and Voeld, the intel about Elaaden she hadn’t had a chance to follow up on yet.

But the email wasn’t about any of those. 

> _To: Ryder_
> 
> _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _Spread the word at Tartarus and in port of your expert handling of the Roekaar. I only made a few embellishments and left out my involvement, of course. Wouldn't want to steal your spotlight._
> 
> _Not that I really could—you're something else, Ryder._
> 
> _Reyes_

She didn’t stop to look at the time before firing off a response.

> _To: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _I try. Though I feel it’s worth mentioning that my expert handling extends well beyond dispatching Roekaar._
> 
> _Left out your involvement? How will your ego recover?_
> 
> _Ryder_

She realized it had been about 610 years, give or take, since she waited on the other end of a terminal for a man to respond to her flirtatious overtures. And not a man, then, but a boy.

Which meant she was definitely too old for this.

But not so old she didn’t squeak with giddiness when another message came through a few minutes later.

> _To: Ryder_
> 
> _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _I’ve been told my ego is insurmountable. I believe it was intended as an insult._
> 
> _Perhaps a private demonstration?_
> 
> _Reyes_

Heat spiked from between her legs straight up to her cheeks. Her fingers twitched out a reply, head and heart dizzy with want.

> _To: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _I hope you’re not propositioning me. I haven’t been given the impression you’re a man who’s reliable in a tight spot._
> 
> _And you took it as a compliment, right?_
> 
> _Ryder_

She sent it before she could think better of it, because it was stupid, stupid, stupid, and true. Ryder had known men like Reyes before, men who blazed in her affections like shooting stars - only to disappoint when they burned up in the atmosphere of time, commitment, responsibility. 

Not that she wanted anything serious. 

Not that she had time, with the Initiative to save.

> _To: Ryder_
> 
> _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _I like to be the one who decides what other people get to think about me._
> 
> _Reyes_
> 
> _PS I am very good in a tight spot._

Ryder fell back against her mattress, grinning and aching and utterly unable to help herself. This was bad. Part of her wished she had a reason to ask Kallo to chart a course back to Kadara, but whatever work needed doing there - _whatever needed doing there_ \- didn’t rank as highly on the list as Elaaden, the asari ark, the archon. 

She was the Pathfinder, first.

But after?

Her right hand slipped between her legs and she whimpered a little, imagining what might come after.


	4. A Real Introvert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please. I keep to a three drink maximum when on a job.”
> 
> Ryder studied the slope of Reyes’ nose, the way the artificial light deepened the shadows around his eyes in a way that made her want to get close enough to count his lashes. She gestured to the bottle.
> 
> “Then why are we talking about work?”
> 
> His smile could start fires, kindling-slow but potent. He leaned close again, pouring Ryder a shot before setting the bottle on the table. He didn’t draw away but remained where he was, face a few handspans from hers.
> 
> “Maybe you’ve lost count, Pathfinder, but I haven’t,” he said, voice smooth but with an edge to it. An edge Ryder had lost approximately three to five shots previous.
> 
> \--
> 
> After establishing an outpost on Elaaden, Ryder returns to Kadara for unfinished business with the Exiles - and all the business with Reyes Vidal. Re-imagines some canon dialogue to allow for a longer conversation and more sexy banter because obviously.

“Really, Ryder. ‘We’re all a little Krogan here’? Do you write all your own material?”

Reyes leaned forward with a smirk, pouring Ryder another shot. 

“Only when it’s terrible,” she replied, swiping the glass almost before he’d finished. How many was it now, three? Four? Seven? She downed it in one gulp, eyes fluttering briefly closed at the burn. “Kadara Port’s not so bad, after Elaaden. Same criminal element, less water, and it’s so _hot_.”

“Perhaps you weren’t dressed for it,” Reyes observed, eyes flicking down Ryder’s armor, buffed smooth in some places from the winds outside New Tuchanka. “Do you own anything less… lethal?”

“My body is a weapon,” Ryder insisted, feeling her way around the joke, not entirely sure she _was_ making a joke, given her biotics. But Reyes was laughing, sitting back with the bottle in his lap. She didn’t need another drink but she was possessed of an urge to retrieve it, clumsily. 

“It can’t have been easy, negotiating with Nakmor Morda. I’ve heard she can be… difficult.”

“She’s krogan,” Ryder replied, approximating a shrug. She considered mentioning the Remnant drive core, but something made her hold her tongue. She’d already sent a little business Reyes’ way, with the other salvage they’d collected from the downed Remnant ship. Well, what she’d been able to hide from PeeBee and Vetra, anyway. “I’d take her over Sloane any day.”

“Now that is a sentiment we share,” Reyes mused, voice dipping in the way it did sometimes, when he was trying - _and succeeding tremendously_ \- in being coy. “I’m glad you stopped by, actually. You saved me the trouble of looking for you.”

Ryder drew back, studying him.

“Should I go? You look like the type who enjoys the chase.”

Reyes chuckled and Ryder’s defenses, already compromised by shots, evaporated.

“Looks can be deceiving. I’m too shy for that nonsense.”

“Oh, yeah. A real introvert.” Ryder could play this game. At least, until it wasn’t a game. “So, what did you need me for?”

“A business rival - Zia Cordier - lifted cargo I was moving for a client.”

She could tell he was keeping something from her, but Ryder knew pressing him would only result in a more blatant omission of the truth.

“You want my help getting it back.”

“We worked so well together on the Roekaar job, I thought you’d be willing.”

She was willing, alright.

“How’d this rival of yours get ahold of your cargo?”

“Her usual tactics. Got my middleman drunk, then stole his ship.”

“Sounds like you know from experience.”

“Please. I keep to a three drink maximum when on a job.”

Ryder studied the slope of Reyes’ nose, the way the artificial light deepened the shadows around his eyes in a way that made her want to get close enough to count his lashes. She gestured to the bottle.

“Then why are we talking about work?”

His smile could start fires, kindling-slow but potent. He leaned close again, pouring Ryder a shot before setting the bottle on the table. He didn’t draw away but remained where he was, face a few handspans from hers.

“Maybe you’ve lost count, Pathfinder, but I haven’t,” he said, voice smooth but with an edge to it. An edge Ryder had lost approximately three to five shots previous.

But she could pretend.

“We cut the profits 50/50.”

That laugh again, transmuting the tension between them.

“60/40. Final offer.”

“Deal.”

“When she stops in Kadara, Zia drinks at Kralla’s song. We’ll start there, see if Umi heard anything that could help us.”

“ _Now_ _?_ ”

“I was going to suggest tomorrow, but if you’re ready now…”

Ryder groaned, pushing the shot back toward him. Maybe it had been a bad idea, returning to Kadara after securing the outpost on Elaaden. She’d told herself it was about the Exiles - if she could bring the Krogan back into the fold, didn’t she owe the same to the people the Initiative had lost to Kadara? And she did want to help them, people like Remi Tamayo, people like Umi.

People like Reyes.

“What is it?”

His voice was inexpressibly soft, curious but tender, too. He’d been watching her. There was a reason Ryder always lost at cards to Gil, even with SAM’s help. Her poker face was more like an open book.

“I’m just trying to decide if I should throw up before bed or wait until tomorrow.”

She opened her eyes, watched as his expression shuttered to something more familiar, charming, when it had been for a moment merely open. Ryder liked it both ways, but she was sorry to see the sweetness go. 

Almost as sorry as she was for lying.

“Kian mixes a better hangover cure than he does a cocktail. I’ll have him send something up.”

Reyes’ voice was all easy confidence, flirtatious without inviting her to take it any further. Whatever alcohol her body hadn’t metabolized was turning to iron in her stomach. Ryder shook her head before taking a deep breath and trying to stand.

“Lexi’ll fix me something on the Tempest.”

The room was spinning, or she was, black creeping in at the corners of her eyes as she rocked on her feet.

“Whoa, Ryder,” Reyes was on his feet as well and his arms were around her, strong and lean. If they hadn’t been weak before her legs were definitely buckling now. “Take it slow.”

This close, Ryder was sure she could’ve identified every color in his eyes if she’d been able to get hers to focus. He was looking at her with such intensity, worry but mostly something else, something Ryder couldn’t identify. It wasn’t desire, or if it was, it was more complicated than just wanting to get her out of her armor. 

<Mr. Vidal’s heart rate has increased, Pathfinder.>

Ryder grinned.

“Don’t worry about me, Reyes,” she murmured, unable to keep herself from tilting forward, nose grazing his neck, head seeking his shoulder in an effort to restore equilibrium. “I’m a Pathfinder. We’re not known for an overabundance of caution.”

Reyes made a sound deep in his chest, something between laughter and a groan, and he held her tighter, closer, under the pretense of accessing his omni-tool. She wasn’t above enjoying being held, inhaling his scent, while he messaged one of her crew to escort her back to the Tempest. 

“I’m not worried about _you_ ,” he said after a moment, quiet and sly and desperately close. She felt the humidity of his breath on her cheek and a gloved finger tucking her hair behind her ear before skating down her neck. 

Deposited in her quarters later by a fussing Vetra, Ryder wondered if he hadn’t timed that statement just so he wouldn’t have to finish it, the hiss of the private chamber’s door opening an instant after he’d spoken. They’d broken apart, something unfinished between them. 

Did he want it to stay that way?

Or was he waiting for something?

Ryder didn’t have the energy to figure it out. She threw up before bed and again hours later, which counted as tomorrow.


	5. A Better Man Than You Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was easy to talk to, with only text between them. Or rather, easy just to talk to, rather than getting caught up in how he smelled or the way he wet his lips just slightly before saying something coy.
> 
> He’d told her he’d been a pilot, and he’d given her his call sign: Anubis. She wasn’t able to find much more about him in the Nexus archives - surprising - and he’d been less than forthcoming with more detail - less surprising .
> 
> But Ryder didn’t care.
> 
> \--
> 
> Follows 'Precious Cargo,' with lots of in-between planet-hopping emails, because I felt their connection warranted deepening before Ryder would rise to Reyes' defense.

It was a week before Ryder could meet Reyes at Kralla’s Song. Spooked by Captain Dunn’s vague email about a “sensitive matter” and worried about her brother, she’d returned to the Nexus and the Hyperion. 

They emailed, instead. 

> _To: Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _What did you do, before all this? I can’t imagine you trained for a cryo nap._
> 
> _Reyes_
> 
> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _Alliance Military. I was serving with a team of Prothean researchers before I signed on with the Initiative. I think even if dad hadn’t been involved… I’d have signed on, anyway. I wanted an adventure. Not the violence and the Kett and no cheeseburgers, but a new frontier._
> 
> _You seem like a man who naps._
> 
> _Ryder_

He was easy to talk to, with only text between them. Or rather, easy _just_ to talk to, rather than getting caught up in how he smelled or the way he wet his lips just slightly before saying something coy.

At first it was an email in the morning and again at night. But inevitable meetings with Tann and Director Addison, tracking down saboteurs, chasing Ruth Bekker - Ryder needed the break, writing to him. Feeling like there was something in her life that wasn’t just about being the Pathfinder. 

He’d told her he’d been a pilot, and he’d given her his call sign: Anubis. She wasn’t able to find much more about him in the Nexus archives - _surprising_ \- and he’d been less than forthcoming with more detail - _less surprising_.

But Ryder didn’t care.

> _To: Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _There’s a flower that grows on Kadara that the local angaran call ‘taoshe,’ because it only blooms at night. Some of the more enterprising Exiles have been eating it, mistakenly assuming it had mind-altering capabilities. Ryota relieved them of some raw samples when they came in with their insides on the outside. He assured me it’s harmless unless ingested._
> 
> _It’s really quite striking._
> 
> _Like you._
> 
> _Reyes_
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _No one’s ever called me striking before._
> 
> _Save one for me? Unless they’ve wilted already._
> 
> _Ryder_
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> _To: Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _No wilting of any kind here. Quite the opposite._
> 
> _Reyes_ _  
> __  
> __PS What about radiant?_

When he wasn’t promising her flowers or alluding to his sexual prowess, Reyes was curious, patient, intuitive. Ryder found herself opening up about her fears for Scott and learned that Reyes had left family behind - two brothers and a sister, all older. His parents had died when he was younger, before he'd left for Andromeda. But now everyone he remembered was dead. He admitted that troubled him sometimes, that what felt like only a few months for him had seen generations of his family come and go. It was a reality every member of the Initiative knew when they signed on, but it was still a shock once they’d arrived in Andromeda with 600 years of living they didn’t remember behind them. Ryder felt she was probably lucky that her family had been small, and they’d come with her.

Lucky that her mother was already gone, so she didn’t have to learn how to grieve her father.

> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _Only when I’ve got a sunburn._
> 
> _I haven’t forgotten about Kralla’s Song._
> 
> _I’ll be there as soon as I can._
> 
> _Ryder_
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> _To: Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _I am not a patient man._
> 
> _For you, I will try._
> 
> _Reyes_

It felt serendipitous when Ruth Bekker’s signal led them back to Kadara. Less so, that the woman had been captured by the Roekaar. It wasn’t easy to pull the trigger, but Ryder did it anyway. 

She did wonder how many lives this galaxy would claim before they were allowed to live in it, though.

After she'd cleaned up and transmitted the news to the Nexus, she made for Kralla's Song, alone. Reyes had his back to her at the bar, the sight of him turning her dark thoughts gray.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” Ryder said.

“That’s my line.”

The smile in his voice when he answered her was enough to drive her melancholy away completely.

“Do you want a drink or a room?”

Umi’s impatience only served to embolden Ryder further, enough that she almost reminded Reyes he had one.

“Information, actually,” Reyes said, smirk retreating to his eyes as he turned away from Ryder toward Umi.

“That’ll cost you more than a round of drinks,” Umi replied, her bored tone even more dry than usual. 

“My… friend’s good for it.”

Ryder leaned against the bar, catching Reyes’ eye.

“I’ll expect a favor in return.”

“You’re one person I’ll happily owe something,” Reyes replied, the delivery so smooth Ryder could almost feel the words against her skin. Or maybe she was just imagining what his tongue would feel like. 

Umi’s patience with the pair was thin enough that Ryder had what she needed to investigate within a moment and Reyes, predictably, opted to dig a little deeper while she almost certainly pursued the course of action that would get her shot. 

She _had_ told him she wasn’t cautious.

“There’s lonely and then there’s stupid, Ryder,” PeeBee cautioned in the Nomad as they bounced from site to site, following up on the lead from Zia's datapad.

“I can smell _between_ Drack’s plates in here,” Ryder insisted. “I’m not lonely. There isn’t enough room.”

“That leaves the alternative,” Vetra observed, but Ryder could hear her grinning. She knew her team had her back, even if they questioned her decisions - she questioned her _own_ decisions, where Reyes was concerned. But he grounded her, in a way other things didn't, or couldn't. He made her want something more than her work, which no one had honestly done in a long time - even before the Initiative.

And she told herself it wasn't _all_ hormones. Maybe only 60 percent.

When they reached the navpoint and found Reyes alone inside rummaging through a crate, Ryder’s skin prickled. They didn’t _feel_ alone.

And they weren’t, of course. No sooner than Ryder guessed there’d never been any cargo, a female voice interrupted them.

“Bravo. I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

Zia stalked into view, all hips and swagger. She was pretty, her hard eyes skating between Reyes and Ryder with a look Ryder didn’t much care for. Zia traded barbs with Reyes, their exchange hard, or maybe Ryder just imagined feelings into it. She didn’t get the impression their break-up had been amicable.

But when Zia said that Reyes was a selfish man, heat flared in Ryder’s chest.

“Reyes is a better man than you think,” she insisted, earning a pitying smirk from the other woman. 

“Oh, honey. You’ve no idea how wrong you are. But you will.”

For an instant, Ryder worried Zia was right. But the edge in Reyes’ voice had changed, raw and rough.

“Leave her out of this.”

Zia's laugh was cold. “You must really like this one, Reyes.”

“Cut the shit, what’s this really about?”

It was about shooting him, naturally. 

And then they were crouching for cover behind a shipping crate, Reyes’ thigh pressed flush against Ryder’s, each providing covering fire for the other without even needing to signal or ask. Ryder’s senses were eclipsed with the sounds and smells of a gunfight but she felt Reyes’ warmth next to her as potently as her finger on the trigger. When it was over she met his eyes, guileless in the instant after battle. His body was heated through with exertion, focus; no energy left over for playing games.

She didn’t see in his face that he was making some kind of play, then. Just earnest intention suspended between them, waiting for the right moment to act.

And Ryder knew that she was right, and Zia was wrong.

“I’m beginning to think you’re even less popular on this planet than we are, Reyes,” Vetra said, holstering her weapon and turning over the charred form of an Outcast to search them for something worth taking back to the Tempest. Reyes’ expression shifted; the charm returned.

“Not now that half my enemies are dead,” he insisted, rising with a smirk. 

They scouted the room and Ryder tried not to count the dead. The tenderness in Reyes' voice, the secret sweetness in his face, didn’t return until they were ready to leave.

“What you said back there… about me being a better man? Thank you.”

He couldn’t hold her eyes when he said it, which surprised Ryder.

“You’re welcome.”

“I should clean up this mess. Zia was a piece of work, but… it feels wrong to leave her out in the open,” he admitted. Ryder could sense he wanted to be alone. Maybe he mourned what he had to do. Or maybe he didn’t, and didn’t want her to see.

Either way, she was dismissed. And because she couldn’t think of anything else to say, any reason to stay, wanted or unwanted, Ryder left. 

She could be patient, too.


	6. The Perfect Gentleman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d love to hear more, but this isn’t a private channel,” Ryder admitted, hearing the squeak of boots below. Exactly how many of her crew suddenly had cause to be within hearing distance of the vid comm?
> 
> \--
> 
> Prelude to 'A Night on the Town.'

Ryder sat as still as possible while Lexi examined her, legs dangling over the side of one of the beds in the med bay. Unlike the human counterparts Ryder was used to, Lexi didn’t need to make any kind of disappointing sign to indicate her displeasure.

“What?” Ryder asked, afraid of the answer, but not wanting to give her imagination the opportunity to get creative with the suspense.

Lexi circled her, studying Ryder’s chart on a datapad before gesturing that Ryder could pull her shirt back down.

“There’s some definite ligament strain in the low back. Have you been doing the exercises I recommended?”

Ryder blanched.

“I _meant_ to,” Ryder began, sure the doctor could spot the lie before she even finished it. Ryder sighed. “Yoga is just so boring. Hold position, breathe. Switch position, breathe. Cardio’s more my thing.”

“Yeah, it is,” PeeBee called from the corridor, earning a brief scowl from Lexi. Ryder stifled a grin, schooling her expression when the doctor met her eyes again.

“You won’t be doing any _cardio_ with lumbar strain,” Lexi chided. “The poses I sent were quite simple. Tevura’s Embrace is ideal for preventing this kind of injury.”

“I think I fell asleep doing that one.”

“Then you were doing it wrong.”

Ryder sighed.

“I’ll try again, Lexi. For you.”

“Do it for yourself,” Lexi urged, the ghost of a grin skating across her lips. “Or for Vidal, if you’d find that more motivating.”

“Ooooo,” echoed PeeBee’s voice again from the corridor, and Ryder threw up her hands, absent defenses against them both.

<There is new email at your Terminal, Pathfinder.>

“Have you been holding out on me, SAM?”

<No, Pathfinder. This merely seemed an opportune moment to share the news.>

With a wave, Ryder was on her feet, heading toward her private quarters, shutting the door on PeeBee’s parting words:

“Tell him to send nudes next time!”

> _To: Ryder_
> 
> _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _Ryder,_
> 
> _Thanks again for your help with Zia. And the Roekaar. I owe you something special. And I think I found just the thing. Give me a call when you have a minute._
> 
> _Reyes_

Ryder felt warmed through after Lexi’s clinical touch. Would she seem too eager if she called him right away? Maybe not.

But she definitely would if she touched up her lipstick first, which she absolutely did. 

Taking the stairs two at a time, Ryder smoothed her hair before calling up the vid comm controls. After a moment, Reyes’ form solidified beside her, a ghost of white and blue.

“Ryder, I was just thinking about you.”

His voice, slightly warbled by distance, was still full of heat enough to melt the tension Ryder that had warranted Ryder’s visit to Lexi. Was lack of sex a cause of back pain?

“I’d love to hear more, but this isn’t a private channel,” Ryder admitted, hearing the squeak of boots below. Exactly how many of her crew suddenly had cause to be within hearing distance of the vid comm?

“I could tell you over drinks,” Reyes replied. “Sloane’s holding a get together for the locals. I managed to snag an invite. Care to be my plus one?”

Ryder almost asked him to repeat himself, hoping her projected form was better at disguising her surprise than she was. 

“Are you asking me out?”

“I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

“And if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?”

The beat of silence between them felt charged. When Reyes spoke again, his voice had dipped, sweet and low.

“That can be arranged.”

Ryder heard the barely contained snort from below. Likely PeeBee, though she wasn’t prepared to entirely rule out Cora.

“I’d never say no to free drinks,” she replied, endeavoring to keep her voice steady, beyond the influence of everything she was imagining about an evening as Reyes’ “plus one.”

“Especially from Sloane’s reserve. I’ll meet you outside Outcast HQ.”

He flickered out as the call ended. Ryder stalked toward the balcony overlooking the terminal below, but her crew was already scattering: a flash of blue, Liam’s hair disappearing as he climbed down the ladder, the door to the biolab hissing closed.

“You’re all terrible,” Ryder crowed, but she was smiling. 

When she returned to her quarters, Reyes had transmitted the details for the event: to be held in two days time, which gave her the opportunity to think about what she was going to wear - _what she always wore_ \- and meet with Akksul on Aya. 

Reyes owed her something special, alright.

She just hoped they had the same idea for what that was.

  
  



	7. Night on the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She’s with me. Reyes Vidal.”
> 
> Reyes didn’t offer his name like he meant for the guard to check the list - he said it like it was an invitation in itself.
> 
> “Go on in.”
> 
> Ryder’s smirk transferred easily from the guard to Reyes, whose lips were flirting with a grin of his own. Instead of greeting her, he only winked. 
> 
> This evening was going to try every last shred of her patience.
> 
> \--
> 
> I added more kissing after Ryder calls him on his bullshit because, it's only fair. I like a Ryder that sees Reyes for who he is, and isn't interested in having him any other way.

The meeting with Akksul went about as terribly as Ryder imagined. And she knew that the attacks on Eos, diverted to the abandoned Promise and Resilience outposts, weren’t the end of the trouble she could expect from the Roekaar. 

But with time enough only to wash the sand out of her hair before disembarking for Kadara Port, Ryder wasn’t going to go looking for trouble. Not when it was almost certainly waiting for her already.

The guard at the door didn’t look terribly friendly, but as ‘approachable’ wasn’t a regular feature of the Outcasts Ryder had met, she just smiled and tried to move past him.

“Hold up,” he said. “This is a private event.”

“I’m meeting a friend.”

_Who obviously isn’t here yet._

“Not without an invite.”

The sound of footfalls prevented Ryder’s next comment, which would not have been polite.

“She’s with me. Reyes Vidal.”

Reyes didn’t offer his name like he meant for the guard to check the list - he said it like it was an invitation in itself.

“Go on in.”

Ryder’s smirk transferred easily from the guard to Reyes, whose lips were flirting with a grin of his own. Instead of greeting her, he only winked. 

This evening was going to try every last shred of her patience.

An angaran woman sauntered up to them once they were inside, more expressive than most Ryder had encountered.

“Reyes Vidal. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

“Remember what I said about ‘fashionably late’?”

“Shush. Introduce me to your companion,” the angaran replied, as easy in her exchange with Reyes as he was with her. He met Ryder’s eyes, and she wondered if she sensed a shift there. Almost like he didn’t want to share - though whether it was Ryder with this angaran, or the angaran with her, Ryder wasn’t sure.

“Pathfinder, meet Keema Dohrgun, the angaran representative to Sloane, and a… a friend.”

Even without SAM’s help, Ryder recognized an opportunity to pry.

“I didn’t think Reyes had friends. Only contacts and colleagues,” she said, holding Keema’s attention. The angaran’s expression was bemused.

“Oh, I’m those as well. Who do you think secured him that invitation to this event?”

Keema paused to look at Reyes, and Ryder felt him shift at her side.

“I was hoping he’d bring you, Pathfinder,” Keema purred. Ryder wasn’t sure if she was poking at Reyes’ confidence, or Ryder’s, or both. “You’re all he talks about lately.”

“Is that so?”

Ryder cut her eyes to Reyes, unable to keep the warmth from her cheeks. He held himself only a little apart from the pair, and it was clear he enjoyed hearing not one but two women talking about him.

“Sorry to cut this short, but I need to take care of something,” Reyes admitted at last, tone distracted. Ryder’s cheeks retained their color, but for entirely different reasons.

“Abandoning me already?”

“It won’t take long. There are important players here tonight. You should mingle. Make a good impression.”

She tried not to feel Keema’s eyes on her.

“Do you treat all your dates this way, or am I special?”

"I’ll make it up to you,” Reyes said, expression softening. Maybe he felt guilty. Maybe he just wanted to get away. “Promise.”

Keema and Ryder stood together then, watching as he retreated into the crowd. The angaran’s words echoed the sigh that Ryder suppressed.

“And there he goes.”

“Any idea what he’s up to?”

“It’s better not to worry about what Reyes does,” Akeema answered, her knowing tone irksome. “Enjoy the party.”

Mingle, Reyes said. Enjoy, Keema said. 

_Drink, Ryder says._

Umi was near Sloane’s usual perch, looking more like she’d just as likely stab someone as serve them than she usually did. When Ryder asked for a drink and Umi demanded the name of her bar, Ryder was confused, but willing to comply if it meant whiskey was forthcoming.

Thus fortified, she scanned the assembled guests, not sure who Reyes would consider an important player. Ryder wanted to tell him she wasn’t interested in games, but of course, he was already playing one with her by bringing her to a party and then immediately having somewhere else to be.

Ryder supposed she would have to talk to Sloane, and she had a few more questions for Keema that might require another drink or two. As for the rest, as thrilled as she’d been to be Reyes’ “plus one,” there was a growing part of her that wished she’d been able to bring someone she trusted with her. 

Forty-five minutes, several awkward conversations, and another drink later - Ryder had declined Umi’s offer of an experimental drink - she was considering just returning to the Tempest when SAM alerted her to Reyes’ potential location. She exited the main area into the corridor, opening one of the side chamber doors to find Reyes crouched on the floor next to a stack of storage crates.

“Damn it,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear but likely no one in the corridor beyond. “Why can’t the serial numbers be in the same spot?” 

Maintaining a tenuous hold on her temper, Ryder crossed her arms over her chest.

“Take the night off, come out for a drink,” she drawled. “Should have known you were up to something.”

“Ryder! It’s not what it looks like!”

The surprise in Reyes’ face felt genuine, giving him an air of innocence that Ryder wanted desperately to believe was real. 

“So you didn’t use me as a distraction to go through Sloane’s stuff?”

“O-okay, yes.” Reyes admitted hurriedly. “But it’s for both our benefit, I promise -” 

“You’ve been making a lot of promises.”

Ryder felt her heart closing up with disappointment even as she closed on him, close enough to smell that he hadn’t been drinking, to feel her own urge to grab him by the collar or the chin or _something_ urged on by the fact that she had. 

“Shit. Someone’s coming,” Reyes hissed, looking past her and back again. He seemed panicked, attempting to console her and keep from getting caught. Ryder liked it. “We need a distraction.”

He searched her face, clearly not used to things not going the way he’d planned. But things not turning out like she planned was all Ryder knew.

And she’d gotten good at improvising.

Ryder fisted one of her hands in Reyes' loose collar and pulled him into a kiss.

She had a moment’s satisfaction, his lips hard with surprise beneath hers, before he cupped her head with one hand, her hip with the other, and parted her lips with his strong tongue. Ryder knew a little something about exploring, how sometimes you hesitated, weighing your options and available information, and other times you followed the thread that tugged from your gut and your heart to wherever it led you. 

Reyes must’ve known something about those threads, too. He gathered her up with every finger wound through her hair, the caress of his tongue, light and sweet and then surprisingly deep, plunging. The press of his hard, muscled belly against hers elicited a moan - maybe from them both. 

She heard, just barely, the grumbling of an Outcast guard behind them, her attention narrowed to the point where she’d angled her head, opened her mouth wider after teasing him with a nip of teeth.

Ryder’s eyes snapped open when he drew back, hands on her shoulders now as he looked past her to the empty corridor.

“I think we’re in the clear,” he murmured, tone fuzzy.

Warmed through, Ryder didn’t want to let him go. Not yet.

“Maybe another kiss? Just to be sure.”

But he was already withdrawing a little, and Ryder wasn’t going to let her disappointment show. Not even when his words, his tone, his laugh, made her slippery with want. 

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

She laughed because they both knew she obviously wasn’t, watching as he climbed the crates he’d been looking over when she’d come in. 

“Finally. Here it is.”

When he leapt down with a bottle in his hands, triumphant, Ryder felt the burn of irritation eating at the edges of her good mood.

“That’s what this was all about? Whiskey?”

Reyes played at seeming affronted.

“The only bottle of Mount Milgrom in Andromeda. Triple distilled and 645 years old. This isn’t whiskey,” he insisted, earnest as a boy. “It’s treasure.”

A grin plucked at Ryder’s lips again. She’d wanted another drink and now she definitely needed one.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing.”

“Heh, We’ll see. Let’s get out of here.”

He took her hand, drawing her into the corridor and toward a back entrance Ryder hadn’t even known existed. She considered asking him how _he_ knew about it, but didn’t want to attract any more attention from the Outcasts who hadn’t been invited to the festivities. Besides, she liked the feel of her hand in his, liked not knowing what was going to happen next as he led her forward from the party.

“This way,” Reyes whispered, opening a hatch in the ceiling of one of the storage rooms with a ladder that led, presumably, to the roof. Ryder followed, heart hammering. Earlier that day she’d nearly been shot over the audacity of having been born in another galaxy - and now she might get shot over a bottle of stolen booze.

Quite a life she’d made for herself in Andromeda.

“Here we are,” Reyes announced, raising his voice to its usual bravado once they were both standing high above Kadara Port with the hatch sealed below them. The view was impressive, even if it smelled just about the same at this elevation as it did below.

“I hope there’s another way down,” Ryder commented. Reyes laughed.

“Don’t like the idea of being trapped up here with me, Pathfinder?”

“Not while we’re still in possession of evidence, no.”

“Let’s do something about that, then.”

Reyes took Ryder’s hand again, leading her to the edge where they could both sit comfortably, surveying the port below. She’d had men take her hand before like she needed guiding, but it didn’t feel like that when Reyes did it. It wasn’t like he was taking possession of her, either. It felt like sharing an experience, being a part of a moment together. 

Opening the bottle with a small grunt of effort, Reyes offered Ryder the first drink. 

“Generous,” she observed, but Reyes inclined his head toward her, eyes hooded.

“I can think of two things you should be using your mouth for right now, and talking isn’t one of them.”

“Just two?”

But she took the bottle before he could change his mind, taking a healthy swallow. It was smooth and smoky, lighting a fire in Ryder’s belly to match the one Reyes had kindled between her legs. He was watching her appreciatively, or so she hoped. Ryder didn’t think Reyes was above making bedroom eyes at the bottle.

Reyes took a drink, humming with pleasure, before handing the bottle back to her and looking out past the port to the landscape beyond.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it? I sometimes forget,” he mused, voice touched with wonder. When he continued, Ryder felt his attention on her. “Is Andromeda everything you hoped it would be?”

She was looking, too, at the way the colors muddied on the horizon, the haze of sunset. It was gorgeous, alien and strange and just begging her to reach for it.

“I knew things wouldn’t be easy, but this is more than I signed up for,” Ryder admitted. It didn’t make her want to change anything, being honest about how hard it was. The bottle passed again. “What about you? Why did you come here, Reyes?”

He took his time, not meeting her eyes, taking a deep drink, kicking his dangling legs like a boy on a swing. There was something about him that was too boyish in that moment, features unguarded. Ryder considered he wasn’t much older than she was, maybe not even thirty. He wore a mantle of years like he did his resistance code name - something to shape how others saw him.

When Reyes finally spoke, his voice was almost raw.

“To be someone.”

“That sounded surprisingly genuine, coming from you,” Ryder said without thinking, shocked by his honesty. She regretted it as soon as she read the hurt - _was it hurt?_ \- in his expression.

“I’m always genuine, Ryder,” Reyes said softly. “In my own way.”

It was Ryder’s turn for words that frayed at the edges. 

“I guess I’m still figuring you out.”

They looked at each other and it felt to Ryder like they were both searching for something. But Reyes’ confidence was sneaking back into his expression, softening his lips.

“I thought Pathfinders liked the unknown.”

“We like being the first to make the unknown known.”

She’d shifted closer to him without even realizing she’d done it and he had one hand behind her, braced against the roof. The look that passed between them was closer to finding than it was searching, now.

“Are we still discussing my character? Because you wouldn’t be the first - ”

“Stop talking.”

It was mutual, that time, their coming together, teeth and tongues and hands seeking. Reyes locked the bottle of Mount Milgrim between his thighs, chuckling against Ryder’s lips when she reached for it, fingers rather more exploratory than they needed to be to retrieve the whiskey. 

With Ryder safely in possession of the bottle, Reyes was free to wander from her lips to her jaw, the hollow below her ear, gently tugging her scarf away to reveal the smooth skin of her neck. Ryder moaned when he traced her collarbone with his fingers, first, and then his tongue. One arm looped around her back, securing her against him, while his other hand planted itself low on her hip, a thumb stroking softly just out of reach where she most wanted him to touch her.

“I’m… a little worried I’m going to lose this,” Ryder said, holding the bottle tightly. Reyes’ breath against her neck when he laughed blazed through her.

“There are greater treasures, Ryder,” he whispered in her ear, making his way back to her mouth, where he divided his time between talking and kissing. “Not so old, but infinitely sweeter.”

<Pathfinder, I estimate the likelihood of yourself or Mr. Vidal falling from the roof at 78 percent, should you maintain your current activities.>

Ryder smirked against Reyes’ lips, shifting away from the edge even as she maintained a vice-like grip on the bottle.

_But will the whiskey be safe, SAM?_

<Neither of you will survive to consume it.>

Ryder drew back, just a little, forcing Reyes to meet her eyes. His were clouded with intention and, Ryder thought smugly, she knew about exactly what.

“Can we go somewhere less… public?”

His grin was honey-slow. She wanted to lick it off.

“Sunset, whiskey, and my charming company aren’t enough for you, Ryder?”

“We’ll still have the whiskey, and you could lose your pants.”

Reyes’ laughter was full-bodied, and they were close enough that she could feel him shake, his joy in every place they touched. He drew back a little before standing and offering his hand to help her up.

“Let’s get you back to your ship,” he said once she was on her feet, tone cooling even as he held her close. One hand closed over hers around the bottle. “We’ll save this for another night.”

They both knew he wasn’t just talking about the whiskey.


	8. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows 'High Noon,' up until the point where Reyes and Ryder part ways in the cave. I'm saving the next scene for the next chapter.

Ryder was sitting up in bed in her quarter on the Tempest, contemplating a strong drink, when SAM alerted her she had new email at her Terminal.

> _To: Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _The next time you decide to get into a bar brawl with a Krogan, I hope you’ll consider Tartarus. I want ringside seats._
> 
> _Reyes_

So, he’d heard about the incident in Kralla’s Song with Drack - though Ryder wondered how many idiots had to have their lights punched out for it to be upgraded from an ‘incident’ to a massacre. Nobody had died, but plenty of stupid had bled all over the place. 

Still, she was smiling, probably for the first time that day. Too much of Ryder’s brain was still caught up in scanning those jettisoned Turian stasis pods, in finding the decimated ark in the Remav system and learning the Turian Pathfinder had died with it. Reyes could’ve known the details about Ark Natanus and Avitus Rix - she knew Reyes tapped into Nexus news feeds - but not the extent of Ryder’s heartache at lives senselessly lost.

> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _It’s never the same show twice. Impulsive, remember?_
> 
> _Ryder_

There were more sentences she’d started and stopped, deleted and didn’t start again. Ryder wasn’t sure where she stood with Reyes after he’d cooled things between them at Sloane’s party. She kept thinking of what Keema had said, that he always had his reasons, but Ryder wasn’t in the mood for reasons. When she’d asked him about it the following day before they departed Kadara, his grin begged to be kissed right back off.

“I’d rather keep you guessing,” he’d said, and she’d laughed because it was easier than admitting to herself, and especially to him, that she was starting to want something certain between them. In Ryder’s experience, this didn’t usually happen until _after_ she’d slept with someone. Sex was intense and vulnerable and _fun_ , and when it meant something, that’s how Ryder knew the person she was having it with meant something to her, too.

But Reyes was already claiming parts of her she hadn’t offered yet, at least not wittingly.

> _To: Sara Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _Speaking of impulses._
> 
> _One of Ryota’s colleagues has been running tests on the toxicity of Kadara’s surface water since you accessed the Remnant vault - she said it will be safe for swimming within a lunar cycle. I know just the secluded place for a late night dip._
> 
> _Want to sit on the shore and keep an eye on my guns?_
> 
> _Reyes_

Ryder choked on a laugh at that, hurrying to respond before she could remind herself that she was supposed to be mad at him.

> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _Liam makes a much better lookout. Send me the navpoint and I’ll make sure he’s there._
> 
> _Ryder_

> _To: Ryder  
> _ _From: Reyes Vidal_
> 
> _He seems upstanding enough not to sell a vid of my naked ass to one of Sloane’s lackeys. I’ll be in touch._
> 
> _Reyes_
> 
> _PS The rest of me will be naked, too._

Heat prickled between Ryder’s breasts and up her neck. Of course he could flirt _now_ , when she was systems away. But Reyes’ mention of Sloane gave her pause, made her think of the Outcast leader’s request for help. She’d meant to ask him about it but had still felt too raw after his not-rejection of her advances, and then she’d gotten pulled in a dozen different directions and hadn’t made it back to Kadara Port. But she was curious, about what Sloane could possibly need her help for.

And a little, about whether Reyes was really planning on swimming without access to radiation medication. 

> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _Change of plans. I’ll be in Kadara Port tomorrow. I’ve got a polka dot bikini you can borrow._
> 
> _Ryder_

Forcing herself to shut down the terminal and disable notifications until the following morning, Ryder lay back down in bed. Maybe Sloane was ready to talk about a potential Initiative presence on Kadara. That was reason enough to see what she wanted - and she could always get Reyes’ opinion once she had more information. 

Maybe she could get something else from him, too. Like an orgasm.

Or three.

But when the Tempest finally touched down in Kadara Port the following morning, the team dividing to their various errands and Ryder reluctantly agreeing to help Sloane with the Charlatan, she found Reyes’ private room in Tartarus empty. He’d never not been waiting for her there - even when she knew he had his own business to attend to, it had always felt like he was waiting for her, there. 

“Maybe he’s smuggling in a new personality,” PeeBee offered, earning a snort of approval from Vetra. Ryder just rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Sloane’s waiting.”

It wasn’t far to the meeting site, but Ryder spent the whole time feeling like something had been upended in her brain, not today but months ago, and she was just now sorting it out. Pieces missing or misplaced, the shape of the thing coming together slowly in shafts of shadow and light.

Sloane was standing outside a cave entrance, alone, her mismatched eyes as deadly as the gun at her hip.

“Took your sweet time. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

There weren’t any signs of disturbance at the mouth of the cave, and no one inside that Ryder could see. Sloane’s body was tense, radiating the same raw emotion she’d shown earlier when talking about what had happened to Kaetus. As much as Ryder didn’t like the Outcast, it was clear there were at least some things the woman cared about.

Ryder had turned her back, scanning the cavern, when she heard a voice she recognized, words she recognized, and closed her eyes briefly in shock and stupidity and disappointment as the puzzle came together at last.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

Turning, Ryder saw Reyes emerge from the shadows, too dramatic not to have been planned. He’d waited for this moment. His name left her lips before she could swallow it. Had he known she would be here?

“I’m here for the Charlatan, not some third-rate smuggler,” Sloane said, a bully, oblivious.

“They’re one in the same,” Ryder muttered, hating that she stood with Sloane, and Reyes stood apart from her, against her. 

“Surprise,” Reyes said. Though he smiled, there was a strain in it. Something flickered in Ryder’s chest, her heart closing like a fist around it.

“This whole time, you’ve been lying to me,” she hissed, holding his eyes, trying to reconcile the man who stood before her with the one who’d said the things he had, done the things he had, with what she knew the Charlatan had said and done, too.

“Not about everything,” Reyes insisted. “You know who I really am.”

Who he really was - a man who was all those things, where they intersected or something more?

Sloane didn’t waste time with revelations.

“You said you wanted to settle things. How?”

Reyes leaped down from the ledge, circling Sloane. Ryder was momentarily grateful for his diverted attention, scrambling to process what she should’ve felt and what she actually did.

“A duel. You and me. Right now. Winner takes Kadara port.”

Ryder was incredulous.

“You want to avoid war by shooting each other?”

“Two people shooting each other is better than a lot of people shooting each other.”

“I’ll take those terms,” Sloane replied with a smirk, fingers already twitching. Ryder considered briefly that she might feel better if she shot Reyes, too. 

But then she saw it, the glint of light deeper within the cave.

<Sniper. His sights are set on Sloane.>

SAM’s voice was clinical, precise, a stark contrast to the turbulence in Ryder’s body and brain. Reyes was still playing a game, and this one wasn’t fair.

But was she going to let him die? 

Or Sloane?

Ryder didn’t have time to decide with her head, not with her heart hammering a dozen beats for every footfall Reyes took opposite Sloane. The bullet, when it came, was delivered with deadly precision. The leader of the Outcasts cried out, slumped forward. A moment later she was gone and Reyes, just steps away, blazed with a victory he’d stolen.

“Bang,” he said, raising his trigger finger and blowing across the tip. Ryder hated how much it turned her on.

Reyes was issuing orders to the sniper, then, and presumably others on a communications channel. Ryder couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at Sloane’s prone figure. She crossed to PeeBee and Vetra.

“I need to deal with this.”

“Sorta seems like it’s dealt with,” PeeBee observed, gesturing to the body, but Vetra was already putting a hand on the asari’s shoulder. The turian’s eyes were narrow but trusting when they landed on Ryder. 

“We’ll wait, Ryder,” she murmured, stalking toward the entrance of the cave and the waiting Nomad. 

Ryder watched them both go, feeling like one of those timelapse vids where what would’ve been a planet’s moon is strung out as a ring. She was supposed to be a solid thing, but instead she’s little pieces trapped orbiting something that’s only just big enough and heavy enough to hold her - but not keep her together.

Except that wasn’t right.

Ryder wasn’t trapped in anybody’s orbit. She was the unexpected, the eccentric. She was a long-period comet, a rogue planet, _a Pathfinder_. 

She followed Reyes deeper into the cave.

“Guess you got everything you wanted,” Ryder murmured when they were far enough away that the others wouldn’t hear. Reyes stalked ahead, confident but agitated, too.

“What I want is peace. Sloane would have brought war to Heleus. We don’t have the population to survive that.”

It was the Charlatan talking. Ryder wanted to talk to Reyes.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” Ryder asked. She didn’t try to keep the hurt from her voice - she wanted him to know.

Reyes slowed and then stopped, the cant of his shoulders thoughtful as he turned to face her.

“I… liked the way you looked at me,” he began. Ryder’s heart contracted. “I was afraid that would change.”

His expression was unguarded, turned on her fully and without hesitation, rather than the few fleeting times she’d caught him looking at her this way. Because he’d always been looking at her this way, under everything. And she’d met his eyes every time.

“Nothing’s changed.”

Her words broke the tension between them, the uncertainty about what came next. Reyes closed the distance between them eagerly. 

“You have bad taste in men.”

He pressed her back against the cave wall, heat crowding, lips on hers. His hips would have driven her back if she hadn’t pressed forward to meet him. Reyes’ mouth was scorching, earnest, and Ryder realized he’d been holding something back before. It hadn’t just been the knowledge of who he was - _because she knew who he really was_ \- but what it meant to be a whole, unfettered person in front of her. 

This kiss wasn’t part of a game Reyes was playing. Shock and want blazed through her. Reyes had never been playing the game with Ryder; it had always been with himself.

The hand that wasn’t braced against the wall explored her hip, her armored stomach, her lower back, her ass. Ryder grinned against his mouth, only just breaking away to press forward again, hot breath seeking his ear.

“The worst,” she whispered.

Reyes chuckled, pleased with her, with himself. Ryder had her hands on his chest, pulling him closer but giving herself space enough to imagine the planes of his muscles underneath, the bronzed skin. Reyes had one hand in her hair now but he surprised her by drawing back, closing his teeth around one of his gloved fingers and then another, tugging his other hand free. He traced her lips wordlessly, her cheekbones, the curve of her jawbone to her chin, his eyes following the progress of his fingers.

“See something you like?” Ryder teased, though the tremor in her voice betrayed just how conscious she was of not having been touched with such devastating gentleness… ever. Reyes’ voice was low when he answered, the wonder in his expression giving way to a sly smile.

“I don’t know, perhaps you could take something out for me?”

Ryder laughed because he ruined it, because he didn’t ruin it, because he was perfectly ridiculous and romantic. 

“In a cave with my team a few meters away and at least two sniper rifles with recon scopes? No.”

“If your body is a weapon, mine is a shield.”

<There is no one in the immediate vicinity, Pathfinder, but Mr. Vidal lacks sufficient body mass to completely shield you from sight should you disrobe.>

 _Shut_ **_up_ ** _, SAM._

Reyes was against her again, gloved hand cupping her chin, kissing her, ungloved hand trailing down her armor to the place where her chest piece met her belt. For all his bravado, Ryder felt him hesitate on the snaps that secured her armored leggings. She lowered a hand to his, guiding him, giving him permission. Ryder gasped when Reyes thumb grazed the line of her panties, when he leaned forward and she felt him hard against her thigh. 

“Come to me tonight?” He murmured, thumb dipping lower but only just, teasing her. 

“Too busy for me, Reyes?”

“Never,” he growled, his whole hand in her pants now, cupping her, kneading. Ryder gasped. “But you deserve better than quick and dirty in a cave.”

He withdrew his hand and Ryder leaned her forehead against his shoulder, her grin so wide it almost hurt. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she whispered, willing her heart and her breathe to slow, to steady, appreciating the way his body supported her because she knew she could stand on her own, too. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Reyes murmured, tilting her chin again to kiss the corner of her mouth, as though he didn’t trust himself to more. “Promise.”

Even as he walked backwards toward the waiting shuttle and a few Collective agents, Ryder could read in his face, the warmth of his smile, that this was a promise he would keep. 

  
  



	9. Pure Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Since leaving the Nexus, my survival has depended on secrets. I don’t want any more of those between us, Ryder.”
> 
> Her breath caught at having something she didn’t know she wanted so badly offered so earnestly. But this was Reyes; he’d told her she knew who he really was. 
> 
> And she knew he could be honest without being an honest man.
> 
> “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Reyes,” she replied without judgment, holding his eyes. They were fathoms-deep and pure gold. “You will have secrets. It’s who you are. Just don’t lie to me about the big stuff.”
> 
> It was his turn to find his breath again. Ryder could see how much it had meant to hear her say it; maybe more than what she’d told him in the cave, that she wanted him no matter what. He pulled her close again, their hearts beating a twin rhythm against each other’s chests.
> 
> “Thank you,” Reyes murmured. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Sexy times, obviously.

It was difficult to focus on a report for Tann, Ryder’s attention shifting between the feeds from Kadara Port and Vetra’s expert dodging of questions from the rest of the Tempest crew regarding what exactly had gone down in the cave.

_Not Reyes._

Ryder groaned, leaning forward and putting her head against the buffed surface of the galley’s table. It had been six hours since she’d left Reyes with a promise to meet him later. Based on comm chatter the coup was relatively bloodless - either Sloane hadn’t been well-liked even among her own people, or allegiance in Kadara Port meant something different than it did literally anywhere else. 

There had, however, been an impressive skirmish in the market that Ryder, Drack, Gil, and Vetra had crowded around a lone terminal to watch, and Cora and Lexi both tried to pretend they _weren’t_ interested in. 

“Is that arms dealer making a sale in the middle of a gun fight? Enterprising,” Vetra had observed, clearly impressed.

“Like that Cerberus piece of garbage is going to give them an edge,” Drack had said with a sneer. “They should’ve called it ‘the bee sting.’”

Gil’s grin had been indulgent.

“Not everyone’s lucky enough to have an armor-plated ass, Drack.”

“There are mods for that,” Vetra had replied evenly, eyes never leaving the terminal. 

Their exchange had made it easier for Ryder to deal with the fact that she didn’t see Reyes among those battling it out in the Kadara market. Not that she expected him to be. When many of his own people didn’t even know who the Charlatan was, she didn’t imagine he would paint a target on his back now that he was so close to securing the port for the Collective.

Ryder fell asleep at some point in the galley, waking to a bottle of water and a supplement just out of reach. Lexi’s work. She smiled, bleary-eyed, downing both the water and the overlarge vitamin before checking the time on her omni-tool. Well after midnight, Nexus-time, but not quite so late on Kadara. 

Not too late, she thought. 

Hoped.

Armed and armored, Ryder had almost made it to the Tempest’s exit when she noted movement near the Nomad. A moment later, Liam stepped forward, expression unreadable. 

“Hey, Liam,” she began, feeling like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. 

“Ryder,” he replied, leaning against the Nomad. “Don’t have to ask where you’re going.”

“And yet, it kinda feels like you are?” 

“No, just - be careful. If you get hurt, this is all for nothing, right?”

<Pathfinder, Mr. Kosta’s blood alcohol level is .14. Perhaps you should notify Dr. T’Perro?>

_Liam’s a big boy, SAM. He can handle it._

But there was something in the young man’s face that made Ryder squirm, a twinge of guilt over the few beers they’d shared, the sometimes-longer-than-usual looks on his couch. But they’d never _done_ anything. If Liam liked her, he’d never made a move, or even said anything.

“I’ll be fine, Liam. Get some sleep, okay?”

She almost told him she’d see him in the morning, but there was too much to be read into that statement. At least, if Ryder’s night went the way she wanted it to.

There was still a fair amount of activity in the market, more vocal members of the Collective celebrating openly, others merely drinking, gambling, watching. What could they expect under the Charlatan’s reign? Ryder had to admit she was as eager to find out what Reyes did with power as he’d been to claim it. 

Tartarus was more crowded than usual, more revelers or opportunists or both, but when Ryder entered Reyes’ private chamber, he was the only one inside. Of course he was here. It was right that he was here.

The door hissed closed behind her, muffling the sounds of music and conversation in the rest of the bar. Reyes stood, heavy-lidded eyes appraising.

“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

“Thought you’d be in the throne room,” Ryder lied. “Tartarus is a little shabby for Kadara’s new leader, don’t you think?”

“Come on, Ryder. You know I prefer to rule from the shadows.”

His light chuckle was drowsy, sensuous. Ryder sat down near him. The room was warmer than usual, or she was, in her armor.

“You are a shady bastard.”

“But a handsome one, right?” When he continued, his tone was all business. “The Angara you met at Sloane’s party - Keema Dohrgun - she’s agreed to be my front. And with Sloane gone, there’s room for the Initiative on Kadara.”

Another outpost, especially on such a resource-rich world, would be an incredible win for the Initiative. As much as Ryder had come for her own reasons, she couldn’t help but already begin planning for it in her head.

“I’ll start rounding up volunteers for an outpost,” she replied, grinning as she pictured Tann’s face when she announced their next move. “It might take a while. You exiles have a reputation.”

“Not all of us are thieves and murderers. I am, but some of the others are perfectly nice,” Reyes said, a smirk playing across his lips. Ryder only just resisted the urge to roll her eyes, or sit in his lap. 

“Perfectly.”

“Jokes aside, I want this outpost just as much as you do,” he insisted. “It will have my full protection. That’s a promise.”

Ryder wondered for how long she’d treasure that earnest tone in his voice, knowing it was real.

“I allied myself with the right man,” she said quietly, appreciating the way his whole body shifted, just a little, when he smiled without an agenda.

“If we’re done with all the boring business talk, there is something I want to do,” he said after a moment, standing and keying in something on his omni-tool.

You’re up to something,” Ryder murmured, wary. “Again.”

Soft music had begun to play, keys and strings, more melodious than what Ryder was used to in bars like this one. Reyes approximated something like a bow, hand extended.

“I neglected you on our first date. How about we fix that?”

He was asking her to _dance_? She didn’t think it was physically possible to feel greater surprise, but her hand was meeting his and she was swinging into his arms.

“I didn’t know you had a romantic streak.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Ryder wasn’t surprised that Reyes was a good dancer. As inexperienced a judge as she might’ve been, his arms were strong and he guided her through the simple steps with a firm but gentle pressure against her back, helping her find a rhythm. She felt his cool breath on her cheek as she leaned close, inhaled the spice of his cologne, the lingering discharge from his gun. Ryder closed her eyes, trying to hold on to every bit of sensory input this moment provided.

When he spoke again, she opened them, watching him watch her. His expression was bold, tender.

“Since leaving the Nexus, my survival has depended on secrets. I don’t want any more of those between us, Ryder.”

Her breath caught at having something she didn’t know she wanted so badly offered so earnestly. But this was Reyes; he’d told her she knew who he really was. 

And she knew he could be honest without being an honest man.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Reyes,” she replied without judgment, holding his eyes. They were fathoms-deep and pure gold. “You will have secrets. It’s who you are. Just don’t lie to me about the big stuff.”

It was his turn to find his breath again. Ryder could see how much it had meant to hear her say it; maybe more than what she’d told him in the cave, that she wanted him no matter what. He pulled her close again, their hearts beating a twin rhythm against each other’s chests.

“Thank you,” Reyes murmured. 

“For what?”

One step, two, a gentle sway.

“Accepting me.”

He kissed her then, his last utterance giving him away with a little shake that he trapped between their lips. And then her mouth was opening under his, inviting him to bury that sound at the base of her tongue. 

It started sweetly. The hand on Ryder’s lower back pressed her into him even as his opposite hand released hers, skating over her shoulder and armored breast to take her cheek. It was release, relief. Ryder felt a knot of tension untangling in her chest, her heart a flower unfolding under his careful attention. Reyes bit her lip gently and Ryder moaned, hands tracing up his back, wanting to feel the skin there, the close shave at his neck, the softness behind his ears. Her gloves came off with less precision than usual and none of Reyes’ finesse, tugged free and thrown on the floor. 

His hair was softer than it looked, liquid black silk. 

The music played on but their pace was quickly becoming frenetic. Ryder was tugging at his pauldrons and he had her guns out of their holsters and the neck of her armor bared in less than ten seconds. 

“We’ve got to talk about your wardrobe, Ryder,” he managed between the work of ravishing what skin he’d bared and seeking more.

“You don’t like the way I dress?”

“I’d rather you weren’t dressed at all.”

Ryder twisted in his arms, exposing the hidden zip on her left side, and Reyes slowed only long enough to avoid catching her skin in the exposed teeth. He had his own gloves off now, and Ryder was sure she’d never felt anything as good as the calloused pads of his fingers against her naked stomach. 

But then he traced them over first one and then a second bare breast, and that was even better.

“Hello,” he continued, lowering his head so that his breath ghosted over a taut nipple. Ryder laughed, finding words for all she was quickly losing sense.

“What are you doing?”

“We’ve only just met,” Reyes murmured, not looking up, admiring the view. “And I’ve been dying to introduce myself properly.”

Ryder couldn’t talk after that, her laugh and her rebuke lost as he took her into his hot mouth, licking, sucking. Still, his attention was divided, one hand cupping the breast his tongue was deftly exploring while the other worked on the buckles and snaps of her armored leggings. Ryder reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it free of his pants. He was forced to lift his arms above his head so she could take it off. He gave her a moment to see him, though his eyes blazed.

His chest had a sparse covering of dark hair, the muscles of his stomach jumping with restraint. Ryder wanted to see more but not as much as she wanted to touch him again. Even as she reached out for Reyes, she found her voice again.

“Is this better than quick and dirty in a cave?”

Reyes laughed, and she loved that she could see how it filled him.

“No, but I’ll make it up to you, I - ”

“Promise?” Ryder finished for him, grinning like a maniac. Like a maniac that was about _to get laid_.

Reyes groaned, surging forward and taking her in his arms again. He hooked his hands underneath of her ass and lifted her against him, backing her up until he could plant her on top of the table. Ryder shimmied out of her leggings, kicking off her boots an instant before Reyes captured her mouth with his. She ran her hands up his back and down again, thrilling every place they touched. 

“Tell me, _querida_ ,” Reyes murmured against Ryder’s throat, one arm curving up her back to cradle her head while the other tugged her panties aside. His longest finger dipped inside her, his thumb beginning an exquisite, circular pressure on her clit. “What do you like?”

But Ryder was long past wanting to talk, nearing incapable. She shifted her hips, providing him a better angle. Ryder heard the zip on his pants. The feel of him against her inner thigh elicited a hum of want from deep in her throat and a groan of pleasure from Reyes when he withdrew his hand and slipped inside. 

Ryder’s hands raked up Reyes’ back, her legs wrapping around him as he thrust forward and drew back, just a little, teasing her. He was grinning, a thatch of dark hair fallen over his forehead. He looked younger, more vulnerable, but heart-achingly sexy, too. She got to see him like this, and nobody else.

The music beyond Reyes’ private room grew louder as if on cue, because he was moving faster now. Ryder felt a scream building in her chest, fed on friction and want, and she buried her head against Reyes’ shoulder. A wave crashed through her, the product of 600 plus years of cryo-induced abstinence and several months of unresolved sexual tension with an outlaw who managed to smirk with his whole body. He was speaking more Spanish now, building toward his own climax with every stroke, his hands straddling her hips. She didn’t understand a word of it but she didn’t need to.

<I can provide a translation if desired, Pathfinder.>

Ryder thought SAM still had something to learn about desire, eyes fluttering closed as Reyes came and she shuddered in his arms, joyous and spent. She laughed then, unable to keep herself from the giddy swell in her belly and her throat. Reyes, knuckles braced against the table now, raised his head, face ruddy with exertion.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her chin, her jaw, to whisper in her ear. “But I like seeing you laughing like this.”

“Naked?”

“Unburdened.”

He drew her up, holding her against him even as he stirred inside her. Ryder felt like something melted and kneaded back into shape, warm and ready. 

“It’s not you, or it is, but not like you think,” Ryder spoke, senses clumsy. Reyes withdrew gently, refastening his pants with one hand while the other remained on her back, stroking between her shoulder blades. “I’m just… _really_ happy.”

Reyes chuckled, reaching for his discarded shirt. But he didn’t put it on - he tugged it over Ryder’s head instead, taking her chin in his hands as her arms wriggled through the sleeves.

“Give me twenty minutes rest and you’ll be ecstatic.”

Her laugh that time was stifled by a kiss, quick and sweet, her heart and eyes and hands full of him. She had a feeling that was how it was going to be between them: overwhelming, and overwhelmingly right.

She’d just have to add dating the outlaw king of Kadara to her job description. 


	10. A Decent Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Was it always the plan for you to take Sloane’s place?”
> 
> The grin in Keema’s voice was smoky, not unlike the cigars she’d taken to brandishing.
> 
> “It was a requirement for my cooperation, yes.”
> 
> “So Ryder isn’t the first woman who’s got you leashed, Reyes,” Cora observed coolly, barely suppressing a laugh. Reyes leaned forward, turning his drink in the ring of dew it had shed on the table.
> 
> “Careful, Harper. I still bite.” 
> 
> \--
> 
> Pulled some of the dialogue with Keema Dohrgun after 'High Noon' into this. Reyes and Ryder go dancing, and then he cooks for her. UNABASHED FLUFF.

Ryder had taken an active role in the establishment of every outpost, though she hadn’t spent this much time planetside since Prodromos. Her excuse of the tenuous political situation on Kadara was believed by exactly no one, except maybe Jaal, who thought better of her than he should have.

The first wave of colonists began arriving within two days of her initial communication with Addison. Ryder was eager to help with everything: assembling prefabricated structures, moving equipment, poring over topology and geology maps, and explaining the most recent history to colonists who would have to quickly adapt to not thinking of Kadara’s current population as Exiles - but as neighbors. 

If Ryder was more than neighborly with a certain denizen, the new arrivals didn’t need to know about it. 

More than a week passed in a blur of work and nights given over to more pleasurable, if less restful, activities than sleep. She and Reyes had taken to evenings with PeeBee and Drack and Vetra at Kralla’s Song, or Keema, Cora and a few of Reyes’ Collective contacts in his private room at Tartarus. Cora and Keema got on surprisingly well, likely due to their shared take-no-shit attitude. 

“The Charlatan and I agreed it would be mutually beneficial if I was the face of Kadara Port,” Keema was saying, three drinks in at Tartarus after Ryder had suffered a full day of fielding Addison’s calls and Christmas Tate’s exuberance. Cora looked surprised at the response, eyes cutting between Keema and Reyes.

“Was it always the plan for you to take Sloane’s place?”

The grin in Keema’s voice was smoky, not unlike the cigars she’d taken to brandishing.

“It was a requirement for my cooperation, yes.”

“So Ryder isn’t the first woman who’s got you leashed, Reyes,” Cora observed coolly, barely suppressing a laugh. Reyes leaned forward, turning his drink in the ring of dew it had shed on the table.

“Careful, Harper. I still bite.” 

Ryder snorted, and Keema laughed out loud. 

“I don't know about that,” she mused, eyes softening with amusement as she looked at Ryder. “I told Reyes to tell you the truth earlier, but he worried about what you’d think. It was adorable, really.”

Clearly having had enough of holes poked in his charming exterior, Reyes tugged Ryder to her feet.

“Dance with me, _querida_ , and restore my wounded pride,” he begged, one hand on her waist already.

“I don’t think I’m qualified for that,” Ryder insisted, but he was already leading her out of his private room and down the stairs toward the small group of dancers near where the music boomed the loudest. The rhythm was quick, pulsing, inorganic, nothing at all like what he’d played for her when they’d danced alone. 

But Reyes’ grace was unchanged. He pulled her close, hip to hip, his hands low on hers. Ryder looped her arms around his neck, looking up into his eyes from the little distance between them. They wouldn’t have been able to hear each other over the bass line, but there was communication enough between their bodies, their shared breath. His grin was languorous, a stark contrast to the music’s tempo and their bodies working to keep up with it. Even in her civvies, Ryder was sweating, relishing the cool whip of air against her face and neck when Reyes swung her out and then back into him, her back against his chest.

“I could get used to this,” Reyes breathed against her ear. Ryder turned, hoping he could read her lips.

“Used to what?”

“A partner.”

She wanted to drink his smile. Still holding Ryder close, his hands low on her belly now and swaying, Reyes kissed her. The angle was a little awkward, but feeling the whole length of him against her back, the strobing lights, the music vibrating through her boots straight to her head and her heart - it was working for Ryder in a pretty big way. Twisting in his arms until they were chest to chest, she leaned forward, breath hot in his ear.

“Let’s get out of here, okay?”

Reyes took her hand and led her from the dance floor, his steps light, like they’d been the night of Sloane’s party. Outside Tartarus, the Kadaran air was refreshingly cool. The smell of sulphur had dissipated considerably since Ryder had activated the vault, but it wasn’t entirely gone. She was beginning to appreciate it, though, the sharp odor blended with the sweetness of things beginning to thrive and grow. It was complicated.

Like everything else on Kadara.

Ryder followed Reyes to the lift, their hands and hips touching, never more than a quarter-meter apart. 

“Zia never took you dancing?” Ryder asked, picking up where the abbreviated conversation had left off. 

“No,” he replied shortly, abrupt and low, taking Ryder by the hips once they were on the lift and pulling her close. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but she couldn’t keep up.”

Reyes kissed her neck, pinning her against the wall of the lift. Ryder’s voice when she spoke next was breathless.

“And what makes you think _you_ can keep up with _me_?” 

“I’m on a leash, remember?”

Ryder laughed, breaking the heat between them even as the door to the lift opened and they broke apart. It was funny because she couldn’t imagine keeping Reyes from doing anything he wanted to do; she’d shown already she wasn’t prepared to try. Part of her recognized she was still honeymooning with his feelings for her, that they were both in a place where pleasing the other was a priority. 

But Ryder had seen a part of the worst of him, and she’d made her choice to trust Reyes anyway. 

He was leading them toward his flat, hardly more than a hole tucked between the market and the docks. After that first night in Tartarus he’d brought her back here, and nearly every night since she’d followed him willingly home. Inside there wasn’t room for much more than a pair of chairs, a kitchenette, his bunk with storage above, and what Ryder imagined was Andromeda’s smallest bathroom. Startlingly modest, for the Collective’s secretive leader, but clean and well lit. 

“Do you want a drink?”

He was already in the kitchenette, pouring himself something from an unlabeled bottle. Ryder opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but was surprised when her stomach growled, instead. She blushed fiercely, but Reyes only laughed. 

“We can do something about that.”

Turning his back, Reyes rummaged in the tiny pantry before producing an assortment of sealed containers. Ryder watched, curious, as he placed a dark pan on his heating element and poured a stream of oil into it. From one of the containers he took out a few pieces of what looked like flat bread. Laying them on a small cutting board, he began cutting the bread into strips.

“What’re you making?”

Nobody had cooked for Ryder since she was a child. She hadn’t even had much cause to cook for herself after moving out, her time between serving in the Alliance military and the Initiative hardly allowing for it. Reyes grinned but he didn’t take his eyes off his work, finishing slicing before tossing the strips into the pan where they sizzled.

“Chilaquiles,” he answered, opening a second container to reveal a green sauce, which Reyes set to simmering in a second pot. “My uncle would make this for me when he came home late. I used to sit up in bed, waiting.”

Ryder was surprised by the easy offering of something from Reyes’ past, though she tried not to show it - and not to notice that he didn’t look up at her when he spoke this time, even though his hands weren’t as busy as they had been a moment before with the knife. 

“You lived with your uncle?”

“He raised me and my sister and brothers after our parents died,” Reyes admitted, using a spatula to turn the strips in the pan. They’d crisped on one side and smelled delicious. “He was a very good cook and a decent criminal.”

“And you’re a very good criminal and a decent cook?”

Reyes made an amused sound in the back of his throat but didn’t answer. After a moment, he poured the sauce over the strips in the larger pan, turned down the heat, and began stirring. Ryder wasn’t sure what he was watching for, but she was enjoying watching him enough that it didn’t matter. After a few moments, he gestured her near, retrieving a fork from a drawer.

“I don’t have any cheese, but,” he pierced a bite, raising it to his lips to cool it before tugging her even closer to offer it. “I’ll let you be the judge.”

Ryder opened her mouth obediently and Reyes fed her, her tongue responding to the heat in the sauce and her body to Reyes’ nearness. It was spicier than she was used to, by a whole lot, and Reyes smirked at the flood of color in her cheeks.

“Here,” he murmured, offering her a drink from his cup. She was surprised that it was water but relieved, too. After she’d drank, Ryder’s tongue registered the more complex flavors of the dish, the sharp sweetness of peppers, onions, and garlic. 

“Did you bring the salsa from the Milky Way?”

Reyes shook his head.

“My personal effects were more practical. But I’m not above taking advantage of the sentimentality of others,” he said with a grin, offering her another bite, a smaller one, this time. “I secured a shipment of ‘exotic’ food stuffs for an adventurous angaran and took this as part of my payment.”

Ryder chewed, feeling the salsa’s heat spread from her mouth to her nose and ears. 

“Thank you for sharing,” Ryder replied simply. Like the tea Suvi had offered her the other day, Ryder knew that even as she thrilled to taste and see new things, these finite pleasures from home were precious. 

“I may be a greedy man,” Reyes began, laying the fork against the counter as he took her face in his hands and kissed her, lingering over her heat-stung lips. “But with you I am inclined to be _very_ generous.” 

Ryder smirked, her hands seeking the warmth of his skin underneath his shirt.

“Perhaps a private demonstration?” She asked, echoing his own words from weeks ago. Reyes hummed with pleasure, hitching her against him.

“I live to serve.”


	11. Duty Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder knew that once she left Kadara, it could be weeks or months before she returned. Protecting Dr. Kennedy and her unborn child was just the first responsibility in a long list of responsibilities that would demand Ryder’s attention and time. 
> 
> That should have already been the focus of Ryder’s attention and time.
> 
> \--
> 
> Ryder has to get back to work, and Lexi is funny.

Lexi was frowning at her omni-tool. 

“What?” Ryder asked, still wincing from the antiseptic Lexi had applied to the wound in her right shoulder. The Outcasts weren’t too happy about Ditaeon, but their attacks had tapered off. They’d just gotten lucky today. “Shields fail sometimes, Lexi. I promise I wasn’t _trying_ to get shot.”

“Plasma burns I can treat,” Lexi replied, distracted. “You’ve lost weight. I’m increasing your rations by one-quarter.”

“Vetra won’t like it,” Ryder warned. “And if I have to drink one more protein smoothie I’ll gag.”

“It’s not Vetra’s job to ensure your caloric intake is sufficient, it’s mine.”

Lexi keyed something in on her omni-tool, then turned to one of her displays, scrolling through a series of dense-looking research articles.

“It’s only temporary, Ryder. Once we’ve left Kadara your activity levels will return to normal.”

Realization slammed into Ryder and her cheeks burned hot.

“This is about _sex_?!”

“The average human female burns approximately 70 calories per 25-minutes of intercourse, but you’re far from average,” Lexi observed clinically. Ryder felt like her head was going to pop off. “You’ve only slept in your quarters three out of the last fifteen nights we’ve been docked. If I average an additional 1,800 calories burned - which I find a generous _under_ estimation - one-quarter rations seems more than fair.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“You’ll pass the galley on your way out.”

Ryder nearly plowed right into Suvi in the corridor. The other woman’s grin was impish, though that didn’t necessarily mean she’d overheard anything.

“I just picked up something on the scanner,” Suvi offered. “It’s one of the ZK Tracker Satellite signals Addison wanted us to follow up on.”

“Show me.”

On the bridge, Suvi indicated the signal, and the interference that suggested the Kett were on Dr. Kennedy’s trail, too. 

“I hope we aren’t too late,” Ryder muttered, issuing a command from her omni-tool to call her crewmates that weren’t on board back to the Tempest. Kallo and Gil were already bickering over readying the Tempest for departure, but Ryder retreated to her quarters to send a quick email to Reyes. 

> _To: Reyes Vidal  
> _ _From: Sara Ryder_
> 
> _Duty calls. Meet you at Tartarus when I’m back?_
> 
> _Ryder_

It was more than she wanted to say and less, because she’d known this day was coming and had selfishly put it off. Ryder knew that once she left Kadara, it could be weeks or months before she returned. Protecting Dr. Kennedy and her unborn child was just the first responsibility in a long list of responsibilities that would demand Ryder’s attention and time. 

That should have _already_ been the focus of Ryder’s attention and time.

She was halfway into her armor when she heard the hum of engines and felt the subtle lurch of takeoff. The chime of a new message at her Terminal coincided with Suvi’s alert that they had left atmo.

> _To: Ryder  
>  From: Reyes Vidal  
>   
> _
> 
> _You know where to find me._
> 
> _A few Outcasts survived the encounter with your crew outside Ditaeon this morning, including the one an informant tells me shot you. They made the mistake of holing up in Draulir._
> 
> _They’re dead now._
> 
> _  
>  Reyes _
> 
> _  
>  PS Stay safe. I’ll be waiting. _

Ryder’s stomach did a somersault, colliding with her heart. When she returned to the bridge, Suvi was explaining the signal pointed to Voeld.

“There’s a Remnant site I’ve been wanting a closer look at there,” PeeBee announced, peeking her head out from the escape pod. 

“I believe the resistance contact on Voeld, Raelis, also has some information for us,” he offered. 

“I’d just like to eat something that doesn’t taste like rotten eggs,” Drack grumbled, audible even from the galley.

Ryder’s grin wasn’t entirely forced when she gave Kallo the go-ahead to lay in a course for Voeld. There was a lot to do and there would always be more. She was the Pathfinder. But Reyes had said he would be waiting for her, and she believed him.

At least she wouldn't have to drink another protein smoothie.


	12. In Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes had never come aboard the Tempest before, though Ryder had never expressly invited him. It seemed foolish in retrospect. Her bed was huge.
> 
> “Reading,” Reyes replied, still smirking. “Though it loses something in translation.”
> 
> “You’ve read it before?”
> 
> “Todo tu cuerpo tiene copa o dulzura destinada a mí,” he murmured, holding her eyes. It wasn’t fair, the things he was able to do with his mouth. 
> 
> He had warned her. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Mostly sexy times and feelings. Post 'Hunting the Archon.'

It wasn’t the fact that she’d been clinically dead for just under a minute that was keeping Ryder awake after their encounter with the Archon on his flagship. It was the memory of the punch of heat on her neck and knowing that some lunatic was doing who knows what with a sample of her DNA. Ryder had witnessed exaltation. She had watched as Lexi reasoned with Jaal over its irreversibility. And she’d fought and nearly died - again - facing off with one of the Archon’s krogan behemoths. 

The salarian geneticists had nothing on the Kett.

So while some fringe element in Andromeda had brought their baggage about AI with them to a new galaxy, Ryder was grateful for SAM’s lack of imagination, for his brutal calculations, for his only answer to her questions about what could happen next or what the Archon might do with what he’d taken from her was just to collect more information. 

Amass.

Extrapolate.

Again.

It was nearly dawn on Kadara when Ryder gave up, took a stimulant, and collected the curative device she’d requisitioned for Knight’s son. PeeBee and Jaal were both awake and nerding out over something, so Ryder invited them to join her. Much as she would rather have been alone, it would’ve been stupid to risk the Outcasts’ ire just because she was in a mood.

Because of course it wasn’t just the Outcasts they had to worry about. A number of unaffiliated Exiles overestimated just who they were dealing with, and not one but two Rylkor tried to take a bite out of the Nomad. By the time they returned to the port, it was late afternoon and everyone was sweaty, hungry, and ready to be at least twenty meters away from each other. Ryder didn’t even bother taking the lift from the slums. There was only one person she wanted to see, and she hadn’t been this close in weeks.

But Reyes’ private room on Tartarus was empty. Disappointment sunk Ryder’s heart to somewhere near her knees, and if she’d had room to feel anything else, she would’ve been embarrassed by just how much she needed to see him just then. She hadn’t emailed, so he couldn’t have known she was here. He was the Charlatan. He had things to do, just like Ryder did. 

<If you activate your scanner I can attempt to track Mr. Vidal’s most recent movements, Pathfinder.>

“I’m not sure violating his privacy is the best move, SAM,” Ryder muttered, tempted as she was. She wouldn’t have hesitated before they were… whatever they were… but not now. She’d just return to the Tempest, grab a shower, and warn the Nexus about what she’d learned about Knight’s plans. 

Gil greeted her in the cargo bay with a smirk, but she didn’t encounter anyone else as she walked toward the bridge and dumped her gear to be sanitized. It wasn’t until she descended the ladder to reach her private quarters that she heard the music and a knowing heat began in her belly and raced to her fingers and toes.

The bronze glow of the Kadaran dusk gilded everything in her quarters, including Reyes, who was seated on the couch with one of Ryder’s books open in his lap. 

“Paper books? Being the daughter of the Pathfinder came with some extra perks,” he said by way of greeting, his smile the best thing she’d seen all day. He lifted the book, which Ryder could see was an English translation of Pablo Neruda’s _The Captain’s Verses_. “I didn’t know you had a romantic streak.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Ryder mused, teasing him with his own words and resisting the urge to curl up on him like a house cat. “What are you doing here?”

Reyes had never come aboard the Tempest before, though Ryder had never expressly invited him. It seemed foolish in retrospect. Her bed was huge.

“Reading,” Reyes replied, still smirking. “Though it loses something in translation.”

“You’ve read it before?”

“ _Todo tu cuerpo tiene copa o dulzura destinada a mí_ ,” he murmured, holding her eyes. It wasn’t fair, the things he was able to do with his mouth. 

He _had_ warned her. 

“How did you get on my ship?”

“I asked nicely.” 

Reyes opened his arms, gesturing to the space beside him, and Ryder went to him wordlessly. He smelled clean, his skin cool, and though keenly aware of how much she reflected the day she had, Ryder was too tired to get up and do anything about it. 

His fingers stroked her scalp, sliding gently through her hair. Ryder closed her eyes, sinking into the sensation. When Reyes spoke again, his voice was like his touch, silky and warm.

“Why do you have a book of love poems in your collection, _querida_?”

“I also have Lorde and Yeats,” she murmured. “Or Asimov or Butler, in case you’re questioning my literary fitness as Pathfinder.”

He didn’t answer her right away, his fingers stilled on her neck. Ryder’s skin prickled. She knew he’d seen the puncture wound where the Archon’s needle had extracted some of her spinal fluid.

“What happened here?”

Reyes’ voice was cold and still. Ryder considered for an instant not telling him, but she’d asked him not to lie about the big stuff - and this was definitely big.

And so she admitted what had happened on the flagship, filled in the gaps in his knowledge about Ark Paarchero and everything she knew about what she had to do next. The Archon’s research on exaltation of Milky Way species, the relic that pointed the way to Meridian. Reyes listened, expression impassive but for a gradual thinning of his lips, a creeping darkness in his eyes that might’ve been the growing darkness outside and might’ve been something else. 

When Reyes finally spoke, a few moments after she finished, his voice was utterly without guile.

“What can I do for you?”

She knew as he said it that he recognized what he couldn’t do: change the past, change the Kett, change the nature of her work or her commitment to it. He had thanked her after the business with Sloane for accepting him, and now he was repaying her by accepting her, too. 

“Do you want to read me some more poetry?”

Reyes laughed, the sound transforming the sadness and the tension between them.

“I may have oversold myself.”

“Shocking.”

He’d sat a little apart from her while she’d been speaking but he drew her onto his lap now, looking up into her face as she straddled him.

“I only know the one poem,” he admitted. “I memorized it to impress someone, back in the Milky Way.”

“Did it work?”

“Of course it did,” he growled, nosing her neck, kneading the muscles in her lower back. He continued in a low and lilting tone, his hands climbing her spine to circle round to her breasts. “ _Cuando subo la mano encuentro en cada sitio una paloma que me buscaba, como si te hubieran, amor, hecho de arcilla_ _para mis propias manos de alfarero_.”

Reyes bid Ryder lift her arms, tugging her undershirt free and off. 

“ _Tus rodillas_ ,” he murmured, fingers alighting on her knees before tracing the curve of each breast, her waist. " _Tus senos, tu cintura faltan en mí como en el hueco de una tierra sedienta de la que desprendieron una forma._ ”

Ryder closed her eyes as he continued, wanting only to hear him, to feel him.

“ _Y juntos somos completos como un solo río, como una sola arena._ ”

Reyes helped her out of her leggings before carrying her to the bed. He took his time, taking each of her fingers into his mouth before kissing the pulse at her wrist, the hollow at her elbow, each shoulder and down, down, down. His tongue traced the joints at her hips, hitching her legs taste the soft skin of her inner thighs. Reyes looked up then, meeting her eyes, eager but not beyond asking for permission.

It wasn’t possible to nod _hell, yes_ , but Ryder did her best.

When he put his mouth on her Ryder bucked her hips involuntarily and one of his fine, strong hands pressed against her lower belly. The pressure combined with the thrust of his tongue tore a moan from Ryder’s throat. She could hardly stand it, having him so close, having him get her so close, but not feeling the full width of him, his weight. 

“Reyes, please - ”

His breath curled as hot as his tongue on her clit. Sucking softly, he sought every nerve until Ryder screamed. Reyes chuckled then, kicking out of his pants before lowering himself over her. He looked entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Please what, _querida_?”

But Ryder wasn’t going to give him greater satisfaction. She flipped him onto his back, catching him by surprise before driving down with her hips. Primed as she was, Ryder was already there, riding him even as he seized her by the hips and rocked into her. She thought fleetingly of the empty ship and hoped it had stayed that way because she was howling now, his name and a primal sound that she couldn’t swallow. 

Collapsed on his chest after, she felt their hearts and lungs seeking equilibrium, panting giving way to shared breath. Ryder lifted her head high enough only to kiss him softly, tender, the sort of kiss she was only capable of when spent.

He kissed her back, and she felt the smile on his lips.

“You keep calling me ‘ _querida_ ,’” Ryder said after a moment, retreating to the corner of his mouth, his stubbled jaw. She’d watched him shave in the mornings they’d shared, meticulous in his appearance, but she liked him undone like this. “Why?”

SAM had translated the word for her when she’d asked and while it literally meant, “desired,” SAM had explained and she’d been able to guess that it was a term of endearment. 

Reyes shifted slightly, tucking her against his side so he could reach her brow for another kiss. He took his time answering, thoughtful.

“The first time I heard my father use my mother’s name was at her funeral,” Reyes began, a touch of surprise in his voice, as though he hadn’t expected to tell her this. “It was a point of pride for him to tell her every time he called for her or spoke of her how he felt about her.”

He paused and Ryder felt frozen. She didn’t want to rush to reason what he’d said or what he might say next. She just wanted to listen, to feel the heat of his skin against hers, the thump of his heart against her cheek. 

But he didn’t let her.

Reyes braced himself on one arm, turning on his side and tilting her chin to look at him when Ryder didn’t meet his eyes right away. The sun had almost completely set, but Reyes’ eyes shone with what light remained. 

“He called her ‘ _mi vida_.’ It means ‘my life,’ and she was,” he continued, nothing of sorrow in his voice, only certainty. “He couldn’t live without her. He was… not a strong man. He took his own life a few months after she died.”

“How old were you?” Ryder whispered, scooting closer. She didn’t want anything between them, not air, not sound. 

“I was eight,” Reyes answered, his free hand stroking her arm, her hand, her hip. “My brothers and my sister didn’t understand how he could abandon us but I thought I did.”

He looked like he wanted to lean closer to her, but held himself back, holding her eyes. She could tell it cost him, this honesty. This vulnerability.

“I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life and I’m very good at getting them,” Reyes continued, and it didn’t sound like a boast. Only the truth. “But I’ve never wanted anything like I wanted you when I thought I couldn’t have you. Having you now only makes me want more.”

He did let himself kiss her face then, her temple, her cheek bone, the corner of her mouth. 

“When I call you ‘ _querida_ ’ I am telling you that I love you,” he murmured. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Ryder captured his lips before he could get away, a hard and certain and sweet kiss.

“I don’t mind,” she managed, heart tight with feeling. “I like it. I love it. I love you, too.”

Reyes hummed with pleasure, tugging her hips toward his. 

“Do you want me to recite the poem again? Or steal you another bottle of wine?”

“How about you get yourself into a compromising situation so I have to rescue you again?”

Laughing, Reyes scooped Ryder underneath of him, straddling her. He was relaxed still but she could feel how her words stirred him.

“Anything, _querida_ ,” he answered, smirking. “Anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a copy of Pablo Neruda's 'The Captain's Verses' in college that I have since lost. His writing was just about the sexiest and the most romantic I'd read at that age, so I figured I'd share that with Ryder and Reyes, too.
> 
> He recites 'The Potter' for her.
> 
> \--
> 
> Your whole body has  
> a fullness or a gentleness destined for me.
> 
> When I move my hand up  
> I find in each place a dove  
> that was seeking me, as  
> if they had, love, made you of clay  
> for my own potter's hands.
> 
> Your knees, your breasts,  
> your waist  
> are missing parts of me like the hollow  
> of a thirsty earth  
> from which they broke off  
> a form,  
> and together  
> we are complete like a single river,  
> like a single grain of sand.
> 
> \--
> 
> Todo tu cuerpo tiene  
> copa o dulzura destinada a mí.
> 
> Cuando subo la mano  
> encuentro en cada sitio una paloma  
> que me buscaba, como si te hubieran, amor, hecho de arcilla  
> para mis propias manos de alfarero.
> 
> Tus rodillas, tus senos,  
> tu cintura faltan en mí como en el hueco  
> de una tierra sedienta  
> de la que desprendieron  
> una forma,  
> y juntos  
> somos completos como un solo río,  
> como una sola arena.


	13. Risks, Plans & Cheats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation and a cuddle before Meridian.

“What was it like, growing up on the Citadel?” **  
**

It was the Tempest’s last night on Kadara and Ryder and Reyes were on their second bottle of Kian’s best wine. Ryder had discarded her jacket and was leaning back against Reyes chest, his arms around her waist and hands within easy reach of the bottle passed back and forth between them.

“It was wild,” Ryder mused. “Our parents were usually working, so Scott and I were always in trouble. There was a C-Sec officer in the Hanar Ward who made a very compelling case for both of us to be sent to boarding school on Earth.”

“But you weren’t.”

“With the education we were getting for free from dad’s Spectre contacts and hours of unchecked pestering of travelers visiting the Presidium?”

Reyes chuckled appreciatively, but when he spoke, his voice was low, knowing. 

“You miss him.”

“Every day,” Ryder answered, blowing out a breath. Reyes handed her the bottle before she could ask and she took a quick sip. “I just thought we’d be doing this together.”

“You will,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

“What about you? Were you close with your siblings?”

Reyes took his time answering, though Ryder didn’t get the sense it was because he didn’t want to tell her - but rather, trying to decide what he most wanted her to know.

“My brothers were much older - Lázaro was eight when I was born, and Vicente was eleven. But my sister Paloma was only three,” Reyes explained. “So I mostly remember it just being the two of us.”

“You were the _baby_?” 

Ryder was incredulous, but she tried to be good-natured about it. She could hear Reyes’ grin when he replied.

“Why do you think I’m so used to getting my way?”

Twisting in his lap to provide an angle to kiss him, Ryder did just that - but only lightly. She wanted to hear more.

“What was Paloma like?”

“Bossy. And tall.”

“That’s it?”

Reyes sighed.

“I did everything she asked when we were kids, but then we weren’t kids anymore,” he trailed off with a shrug, pausing to take another drink. “She tried for months to talk me out of joining the Initiative. Her guilt trips were legendary.”

“She didn’t want to come with you?”

“She thought I was crazy,” Reyes answered, an earnest edge to his laugh. “She was right, obviously. But I wasn’t persuaded.”

“Lucky me,” Ryder murmured, dozing against the heat of his body, her own slow and warmed by drink. She felt the rumble of Reyes’ laugh against her chest then, the weight of his arms as he held her more tightly.

“Luck had nothing to do with it, _querida_ ,” he said, his tone pitched low enough to stoke the fire that always burned for him. “Though you’ll need it, where you’re going.”

Ryder was selfishly trying not to think about Meridian, but Reyes wasn’t wrong. 

“Luck and a lot of guns,” she admitted, taking the bottle and a sip before continuing. “I still can’t believe the directors won’t back us. We won’t survive in Andromeda if the Kett control Meridian.”

“Some people aren’t willing to risk what they have for what they need,” Reyes answered, and when he tilted Ryder’s chin to see her face, his was blazing with admiration. “Unlike you.”

“And you,” she insisted, bashful but recovering quickly. “Though mostly me. It is highly likely I am going to get shot. When you challenged Sloane, you cheated.”

Reyes’ mouth dropped open in a laugh and he looked away, shaking his head.

“I was willing to get shot, if that’s what it took.”

“Not the same thing,” Ryder argued, the hand that wasn’t holding the bottle turning his face so he had to look at her. “Your sniper had orders. You planned that.”

“You could’ve shot me,” Reyes plucked the bottle from Ryder’s hands and deposited it on the table, pulling her against him. His voice grew soft. “I gave you a very good reason to shoot me. Why didn’t you?”

“I thought about it,” Ryder admitted, remembering that moment of hesitation, not knowing whether to warn Sloane or not. But she’d only been able to give it a single thought - when she hadn’t acted, that had been a decision made with her heart and her gut. 

“And?”

“And,” Ryder answered, landing hard on the vowel as she took him by the collar, “I decided I liked you in one piece.”

Ryder kissed him then, her tongue teasing his into her mouth even as her hands traveled up to trace his jaw, to slide around his neck to the back of his head. She was surprised that though he returned the kiss, his lips softened under hers as he withdrew slightly, holding her eyes.

“You have a plan for the Kett but you can’t know everything that will happen,” he murmured. “I didn’t plan for you - and not just with Sloane. When Evfra asked me to meet with the Pathfinder and she was young and mouthy and _very_ attractive, I knew I was in trouble. I still am.” 

He kissed the corner of her mouth, her chin, her jaw. 

“Plans change,” he continued, lips brushing her temple, her brow. “We adapt or we don’t survive.”

“Wow,” Ryder whispered, teasing but warmed through by his words and his touch. “Reyes Vidal, philosopher.”

“On a limited basis,” he warned. “I’m the Charlatan, remember?”

“No,” Ryder insisted, resting her head against his shoulder, forehead flush with the heat of his neck. “You’re real when you’re with me.”

She felt his chest seize and release but he didn’t say anything more, just held her, tight but not too tightly. Ryder knew he’d let her go as soon as she made a motion to leave, that he would make it seem easy, watching her walk into danger.

But she knew that it wasn’t going to be easy, not for either of them. 

Tomorrow, Meridian.

But tonight, there was this, his breath in her hair, the beat of his heart against hers, the smallest gesture perfectly tender and just enough.


	14. Limited Visual Capacity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late-night vidcomm call set before 'The Way Home.'

Ryder waited until even Lexi and Drack, who seemed almost never to sleep, had at least been quiet for an hour before she stole up to the vidcomm and put in a call to Kadara. She was still recovering from her injuries and favored her left side heavily, so she definitely didn’t want to alert the doctor to the fact that she was out of bed, which was where she’d been told to stay while repairs to the Tempest were made. 

But she needed to talk to Reyes, to see him, and she didn’t have the luxury of retreating to Kadara to lick her wounds - or let him do it for her.

When he flickered into view, his eager smirk cooled considerably as his eyes took in her wan appearance. Ryder shrugged, wincing slightly at the dart of pain that began at her shoulder and arced through her body to her toes.

“I’d invite you to think of a more colorful adjective to describe my current appearance than Gil, but his vocabulary is surprisingly strong for a gearhead,” she managed, her voice rough around the edges from screaming commands over the roar of heavy weapons. And just plain screaming.

“He’s not the only one full of surprises,” Reyes replied, posture softening as he considered Ryder, leaning against the rail for support. She tried to make it look casual, like she didn’t need it to remain upright. “I heard about what happened at the Remnant City.”

So he knew it wasn’t the real Meridian, knew that her injuries be damned, the crew had to rally and fast to find the real Meridian before the Kett recovered.

“The Initiative’s behind us now, at least,” she continued, wishing she didn’t sound so tired and hoping the vidcomm audio compensated for it. 

“They’re not the only ones,” Reyes murmured, holding her eyes. It wasn’t the same, but she could imagine their depth, the steady gold. “When do you leave?”

“Soon,” Ryder answered. “The Tempest took some damage.” 

_And so did I._

Reyes’ nodded his understanding. Desperate for something normal, Ryder continued quickly.

“My brother’s awake. For real this time.”

“That’s great news,” Reyes replied earnestly, his smirk plain despite the limited visual capacity of the vidcomm. “Am I in trouble?”

Ryder snorted her amusement.

“You didn’t feature in our conversation. And besides, _I’m_ the older sibling, remember?”

“That’s never stopped a brother in my experience.” 

“Tell me more about this experience,” Ryder said with a weak grin. “Didn’t you say you were a model gentleman?”

“Didn’t I also say that I was lying about that?”

Ryder closed her eyes, relaxing in the heat of his laughter, his smile.

“I miss you,” she said softly after a moment, aware that the pain medication Lexi had her on was making her weepy and unable to do anything about it. She saw Reyes’ projection shift, as though he’d attempted to move closer to her and beyond the range of his own vidcomm. When his image stabilized, his voice returned, cautious and sweet.

“Did I ever tell you what happened on my last night in the Milky Way?”

Ryder shook her head, keeping her eyes pinched shut against imminent tears.

“I was invited to a party with a man I very much wanted to bed before I went to sleep for 600 years - ”

“Another ex? Do I want to hear this story?”

“Of course you do,” he continued with a chuckle. “He had the most spectacular a- ”

“ _Reyes._ ”

“I didn’t go to the party. I spent the night on the roof of my apartment, looking at the stars,” he said quietly. “All the people I wouldn’t see again, the familiar places - I’d said my goodbyes. But it wasn’t until that night that I realized the constellations that had remained unchanged my whole life would be gone, too.”

Ryder watched his face as he reminisced and didn’t find it as difficult as she might have once to imagine him missing a party for an evening alone instead.

“They were the first thing I wanted to see when they brought me out of cryo, too. I knew they would be totally different stars, but they’d still _be_ stars - a constant no matter where I was in the universe.”

Ryder remembered her own experience fresh out of cryo, the Scourge and her brother and planetside on Habitat 7 before all the drugs to wake her had even been flushed from her system. 

But she’d still made time for wonder, too.

“When this is over - ” Ryder began, but it was Reyes’ turn to interrupt.

“But it isn’t over yet,” he began, voice low and warm as the length of his body might’ve been. “And it won’t ever be over - there’s no galaxy that could contain your capacity for trouble.”

“Nor yours either,” Ryder said, laughing now, ribs aching. It didn’t take much. Reyes was grinning and if he’d been in the room with her she would’ve kissed him, would’ve wrapped her arms and legs around him and doctor’s orders be damned, dragged him to her bed. 

“I’ll be waiting for you, _querida_.”

“Good.”


	15. Hearts and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just prior to Meridian: The Way Home. Reyes surprises Ryder on the Nexus.

Ryder knew that the Vortex was the very last place she should’ve been, freshly weaned from healing stimulants and less than fourteen hours from finalizing the Tempest’s repairs and leaving the Nexus. Even Drack was somewhere else, sensibly aware of the danger that awaited them. Liam’s usual spot at the bar was occupied by a pair of drunken Turians loudly arguing how much better the Initiative might’ve fared with a stronger military presence. She wasn’t sure if their argument was for her benefit or not, but Ryder was steadfastly ignoring them in favor of her beer.

<Dr. Carlyle did extend an invitation to spend the evening in the cryo bay, if you wished to be near your brother, Pathfinder.>

Closing her eyes, Ryder took a long drink, like she needed to occupy her mouth to avoid talking to SAM. 

_It’s not a good time, SAM._

Not for her, and not for Scott. He was awake and recovering, but he was still processing everything that had happened without the benefit of the time she’d had - their father’s death, the loss of the golden worlds, the fact that the Initiative was on the brink of open war with a technologically superior species.

And that their hope for the future, for any kind of future, rested on his sister’s shoulders.

Ryder couldn’t help him with that, and he’d been kind about asking for some space. It wasn’t that she was feeling sorry for herself. Ryder knew that she’d give her life for the Initiative if she had to, and she knew if their positions had been reversed, Scott would’ve done the same thing.

But the fact that it might not matter if she died? That they'd lose anyway? Nothing she’d learned or experienced, in the Milky Way or here in Heleus, could make that easier. 

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” murmured a voice so close she was sure she’d imagined it, as Ryder hadn’t had so much to drink she wouldn’t have heard someone approach. But when she shot a look over her shoulder he was there, hip cocked, dark eyes warm with intent.

“Reyes? What are you doing here?”

Heedless of the other patrons, Ryder leapt to her feet to embrace him - or tried to. Maybe she _was_ more impaired than she’d thought. Reyes caught her around the waist and held on.

“You’d be surprised what an enterprising exile can do now that there’s a thriving Initiative outpost on Kadara,” Reyes whispered, studying her with a smirk playing lightly over his lips. It had been nearly a month since they’d last seen each other, and every horror she’d witnessed was pressed between them. Ryder could see in Reyes’ eyes that he was thinking of things he’d seen and done, too. Neither of them would ever weather time apart just in waiting.

Which was maybe why it felt so good to feel the heat of his gaze burning up the doubt and the fear and the power of the memories she’d made without him. That was a certainty, too.

“You didn’t come just for me?” Ryder teased softly, looking up into his eyes, close enough to see the plush tilt of his lips when he answered.

“Not yet I haven’t.”

She squeezed his hip. 

“Do you have a ship?”

“I do.”

“Show me.”

Reyes took her hand and they slipped through the crowd, the pressure of his fingers as exquisite as it had been the night of Sloane’s party, maybe even better because she knew his fingers now - she knew him, now. 

Berthed in a small docking area, Reyes’ ship was a heavily retrofitted shuttle, the Alliance designation painted over with a stylized black jackal. She remembered his call sign, Anubis, and grinned - he must’ve taken this with him when he left the Initiative, and likely without their blessing. 

No sooner than the door had sealed behind them Reyes crowded her against a bulkhead and savaged her lips, hands desperate, hips seeking. Ryder helped, eager for the touch of his skin against her skin even though she knew she could never have him close enough, deep enough, for long enough. They didn’t bother with talking. They rushed in the way only two people who lived lives like theirs could - people who gambled with their hearts and their blood and their bones every day, who rolled the dice and damned the consequences. 

Reyes buried himself in her with a groan, hands clutching her thighs as he held her up, and Ryder cried out his name, fists in the ink of his hair. She rocked against him even after he came, demanding, daring him to withdraw. 

Instead he carried her to a low, cushioned couch, arms cradled against her back as he laid her down. Ryder closed her eyes as Reyes kissed her, first her lips and then her cheekbone, her brow, the curve where her ear met her hairline. She opened and closed her mouth several times, intended to speak before she realized that anything she could say he would already know.

_I missed you._

_I needed you._

_I love you._

When their eyes met she grinned because she could see the same understanding there, everything that his body said without words. 

But Reyes didn’t know when to shut up, and she loved him for that, too.

“You have ruined me, you know,” he murmured. “My uncle always said a good woman would be the death of me.”

“If only someone had warned me off bad men,” Ryder mused, hands trailing down his bare chest as he stretched out beside her. “You’d have been safe.”

“Would you have listened?”

“Of course not.”

Reyes pillowed his head on one arm, the other holding Ryder close as their bodies cooled. His expression darkened and Ryder only just resisted the urge to silence him with her lips. Tomorrow was coming, and the Kett. She owed him answers to whatever he needed to ask.

But Reyes surprised her.

“I thought I’d find something here, some way Tann and the others were failing you, that would give me a reason to ask you not to go,” Reyes admitted. “But I didn’t and I don’t think I could have, anyway. You’re ready. I’ve seen the leadership briefings, the weapon manifests, the intelligence reports. And my people tell me you have everything, and everyone, you need.”

Ryder listened, watching the play of worry and resignation across his face, reckoning with the way it broke her open and pulled her back together again at the same time. 

“Not everything,” she said softly, tracing his jaw. “Not everyone. Not until now.”

Reyes’ eyes closed as he leaned into her touch, kissing her fingers when they drew close to his mouth.

“I am grateful for tonight, _querida_ ,” he murmured, tone shifting as he continued. “ _Y así te espero como casa sola y volverás a verme y habitarme. De otro modo me duelen las ventanas_.”

“More poetry to impress an ex-lover?” Ryder teased even as she relished his touch and the sound of his words. Reyes’ grin smoldered as she felt him stir against her again, eyes open now, his fingers seeking the answering heat that bloomed between her legs.

“I memorized that one for you.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Pablo Neruda, because I can't help myself. Reyes recites part of Sonnet LXV, from 100 Love Sonnets.
> 
> \--
> 
> Matilde, where are you? Down here I noticed,  
> under my necktie and just above my heart,  
> a certain pang of grief between the ribs,  
> you were gone that quickly.
> 
> I needed the light of your energy,  
> I looked around, devouring hope.  
> I watched the void without you that is like a house,  
> nothing left but tragic windows.
> 
> Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens  
> to the fall of the ancient leafless rain,  
> to feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned;  
> so I wait for you like a lonely house  
> till you will see me again and live in me.  
> Till then my windows ache.
> 
> \--
> 
> Matilde, dónde estás? Noté, hacia abajo,  
> entre corbata y corazón, arriba,  
> cierta melancolía intercostal:  
> era que tú de pronto eras ausente.
> 
> Me hizo falta la luz de tu energía  
> y miré devorando la esperanza,  
> miré el vacío que es sin ti una casa,  
> no quedan sino trágicas ventanas.
> 
> De puro taciturno el techo escucha  
> caer antiguas lluvias deshojadas,  
> plumas, lo que la noche aprisionó:
> 
> y así te espero como casa sola  
> y volverás a verme y habitarme.  
> De otro modo me duelen las ventanas.


	16. Closer to Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryder woke, panting, the threads of the dream more like fingers tightening around her throat than powerless in the waking world, as they ought to have been. Reyes hovered near, not touching her, expression dark with worry. He didn’t need to ask if she’d dreamt of fighting the Archon again - she had - or if there was anything he could do - there wasn’t. 
> 
> Three weeks ago she’d emerged from Meridian control, and recovery was… messy.
> 
> \--
> 
> Follows the final battle. Endings aren't tidy and I wanted to honor the trauma Ryder has experienced - and the sweetness she deserves.
> 
> There are still some things I'd love to write for these two but I'm calling this complete for now.

Scott was howling, an animal sound raw enough that Ryder imagined it capable of shredding his throat.

She felt the throb of gunfire in her bones, the kickback from her shotgun, the electric tangle of her biotics. Ryder felt every broken bone and torn muscle, every place her blood spilled from her body, but all she heard was Scott, screaming.

An explosion of red across the field of her vision, fireworks of viscera. The sounds erupting from Scott dropped into a new register, inhuman and deep.

Ryder woke, panting, the threads of the dream more like fingers tightening around her throat than powerless in the waking world, as they ought to have been. Reyes hovered near, not touching her, expression dark with worry. He didn’t need to ask if she’d dreamt of fighting the Archon again - she had - or if there was anything he could do - there wasn’t. 

Three weeks ago she’d emerged from Meridian control, and recovery was… messy.

“Come here, _querida_ ,” Reyes murmured when Ryder met his eyes, beckoning her to the space between his body and the bed. Ryder did as he asked without saying a word, fully awake now but all too willing to lay wordless together in the dark.

She remembered the first nightmare, recovering in the medical bay on the Tempest. She’d been half-mad, delirious with fever. Panic had gripped her and without intending to her knee came up, driving into Lexi’s solar plexus before Drack could hold her down and the doctor flooded her system with what had become a familiar cocktail of sleep aids, pain relievers, and antipsychotics. The disconnect from SAM and the strain of interfacing with the Remnant on her own had done neurological damage, and though Lexi assured her it was nothing time and study couldn’t remedy, Ryder wasn’t sure she believed her. 

It was a hell of a time for the doctor to develop a bedside manner.

Reyes ran his fingers from the crown of Ryder’s head to her neck, between her shoulder blades and down her back. He did it again and again, taking a slightly different course each time so that it felt good, each time. 

The lights in her quarters were at their lowest setting and the displays had all been turned off. Ryder could hear the low hum of the auxiliary engines, the Tempest drawing the bare minimum of power while she was grounded. Quiet. Settled. Safe.

Her heart threatened to follow that thought backwards, still trying to process Meridian, to seek the oblivion of sleep even when she knew better. But Ryder wasn’t going to let it - she was ready to move beyond the part of her recovery that involved being unconscious.

Rolling over onto her side, Ryder laid her head on the pillow next to Reyes’, near enough that she could have kissed him. She pictured him in his shuttle above Meridian, remembered being wedged between Drack and Cora on the Nomad and hearing the words that had destroyed her and pieced her back together in the same instant.

_The whole damn cavalry. You know I can’t resist a party._

“When I heard you on the communications channel, above Meridian - I didn't expect you to be there. Have I told you what that meant to me?”

Her whisper was met with a knowing smile, one she imagined had contributed to Reyes earning his codename with the Angaran resistance. 

“Yes,” he replied, hand settling against her lower back, holding her close. “Though you can tell me how impressive I am as many times as you like.”

“Your ego is a weirdly comforting constant.”

But Ryder was smiling, too, soft and tired and slow. She stretched in his arms, pressing closer; felt her muscles and bones shift against wounds still mending, nothing serious enough that she couldn’t have done more. But she felt the ice and terror just under the surface of her skin and held herself back.

“The body heals before the mind,” Lexi had explained when Ryder complained she didn’t feel like herself. When Ryder had cried, because nothing else in Andromeda had affected her this way. “Trauma manifests in unexpected ways.”

Ryder closed her eyes and pictured PeeBee, the bruise-mottled sheen of the asari’s skin, the way she hadn’t fought Lexi’s ministrations after the battle. PeeBee always fought. Liam, whose internal bleeding had been so severe he’d nearly died. Even now Vetra was still with Sid; the young turian had been caught in the crossfire when the Kett attacked the Hyperion and was already boasting about her scars.

And Scott, who was getting stronger everyday, but whose ghosts mirrored the ones in Sara’s eyes.

“When your face is closed like this, _querida_ , I think you are further away than the Milky Way,” Reyes said quietly. 

“I’m a lot closer to home, actually,” Ryder replied, opening her eyes. She put her hand against his heart through the thin shirt he wore, illustrating the point. “I’m here.”

“You are now.”

He watched her carefully, his caution such a tender thing that Ryder leaned forward to kiss him on an impulse. 

His lips were cool and smooth and they opened under hers, just a little. There was no pressure in the kiss and Ryder knew, from experience and because she knew _him_ , that Reyes would match her in all things. He would meet her where she was, would follow, would lead when she asked.

Ryder pushed her hips forward experimentally, deepened the kiss. She thought about the way his skin tasted, the heat of peppers on his tongue. She remembered the relief she’d felt after the battle when he didn’t speak to her, not at first, but with a wink told her everything she needed to hear:

_I didn’t doubt you._

_I believe in you._

_You’re something else, Ryder._

Ryder shifted to hook a leg over Reyes’ hip and thought about love. He roused to her and she thought about the things that persisted no matter what you were afraid of, what had caused you to fear.

“I’m sorry this isn’t a storage room,” she whispered when their hands reached at the same time for what little clothes they wore. Reyes laughed, a throaty chuckle that vibrated against her skin and melted what little ice remained. 

“Liar,” he growled, incongruous with his gentle touches, the way he eased her above him, how his eyes traveled from lips to shoulder to breasts, reverent. She felt thawed, closer to whole. Close.

“You’re one to talk.”

Maybe he was right, that she wasn’t sorry. But Ryder wasn’t about to let the outlaw king of Kadara lecture her about truthfulness, not when there was so much more, so much better, waiting to be built between them. 

One breath at a time.


End file.
